In Between
by Spasticatt
Summary: This story takes place "In Between" Uncanny Avengers 5 & 6, after the end of the Gambit series. Rogue had just accidentally killed Wonder Man's brother. I'm using a bit of artistic license here to imply that a day passes between that point and when Thor and Sunfire have to rescue Rio de Janeiro from space wreckage/ Rogue kills Scarlet Witch. Be kind, this is my first fanfic!
1. Chapter 1

She didn't remember how long she had wandered aimlessly before ending up on a bench in south Central Park, watching the swans from the depths of her thick, dark gray hoodie. All she could vaguely recall was that once the police had finally left, she had grabbed the first change of clothes that she could find and rabbited out the back door before anyone could forbid her to leave the Mansion. Not that she ever obeyed being told what to do if she didn't agree with it, but this time she had no desire to cause more conflict with her angry teammates. The level of tension and mistrust in that damned house was stifling enough already without her picking yet another fight. Sighing, she focused instead on the way the summer sunlight rippled around the large white birds as they gracefully maneuvered between paddle boats filled with smiling tourists. Willow trees lazily dipped their branches in the water, reaching for hidden mysteries amongst the pond scum. A painting suddenly came to mind: _Ophelia_, by John Everett Millais. The young woman's serene, sad face as she floated into the sweet black water of oblivion, finally freed from her madness.

_Must be nice not to deal with life_, _love and loss anymore,_ the lone woman thought morosely. A handsome blond man parked himself next to her, uninvited, and she tensed automatically.

After a minute of silence he casually remarked, "For somebody who doesn't want to be found, you're doing a lousy job of hiding."

Sparing only the briefest of glances at the interloper, she growled, "I ain't hiding, leave me alone. Don't want to talk to you."

"Most people don't, unless it's to tell me I'm doing things wrong." Alex Summers said with a self-depreciating ring to his voice. "Although I'm sure most of the time I probably am."

"Today you're definitely calling the wrong shots." Rogue hissed, staring angrily at an imaginary point in the distance. There was steel in her tone as she continued, "One day you're telling Cap that he's wrong to want me out of the public eye 'cause of my ancient rap sheet, then the next day you're saying that I need to lay low because I stopped a terrorist on national TV?! And of course there's the icing on the cake: You get the _brilliant_ idea to tell me to spy on my ex in FRONT of his batshit crazy daughter! That ain't just low, that's hateful. I thought we were friends, Alex."

He leaned in front of her, deliberately breaching her personal space as he twisted around to peek under her hood and over her sunglasses. Eyes as blue as Alaskan ice bored into hers, concern etched in lines around his frown. "We _are_ friends! I just thought that since you seem to know Mags the best, you would be okay with finding out what he's up to. I know you guys had a thing going for a few months and haven't had time to talk since...I figured maybe I'd give you an excuse to go say hi."

Rogue ripped off her shades and stared at him in furious disbelief, errant strands of long white hair falling across her forehead. Alex flinched at the intensity of her glare and quickly leaned back against the bench.

"And say what? _ 'Oh hey, how ya been since we broke up? By the way, are ya plottin' anything evil at the moment that you wanna tell me about?'_ What the **HELL** are you thinkin'?!"

"Well I…I…it's just.." His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he struggled to think of calming words. She was absolutely terrifying when she was this pissed, and he wasn't about to end up in a month long coma. He gulped and took a deep breath, his chest puffing out to ridiculous proportions.

"It's just that you're being such a miserable jerk lately that I thought maybe sending you to see someone who used to 'comfort' you might put you in a better mood and everybody at the mansion might forget your attitude if you were gone for a while and you'd come back and be your happy old self plus we need Intel and I'm not too sure what the best way to get it is and with what happened with the Professor and now Simon's brother... and..." He exhaled it all in one shot, wheezing when he ran out of breath.

Havoc felt guilty. He had talked the X-Men's spunky southern powerhouse into joining the Unity Squad by convincing her that they were going to be the epitome of Xavier's dream, a mixed species team to rally humans and mutants into learning peaceful coexistence. Rogue hadn't fit well from the start. So used to being a strong, independent leader of teammates that she could trust not to judge her, it had been a considerable blow to her ego to be reduced to a barely tolerated pariah in a unit of overbearing super heroes. Xavier's many students were a close (if dysfunctional) family, a trait missing from the drama filled high school known as the Avengers Unity Squad. Unlike the genuine article, they were overflowing with divas- all of whom were practically at each other's throats during any given moment of the day. At this rate, their ragtag bunch would never aspire to the worldwide respect of the Avengers. For Havoc, trying to force everyone to get along was like trying to herd cats; it was beginning to look like more of an impossibility with every fight and botched mission.

Her snarl had lessened to a grimace, appreciating his honesty if not accepting it. "Number one, I don't need any hugs or pats on the back. Even if I did need some 'comforting', as ya seem to think, Erik ain't even on mah list of potential cuddle bunnies. Two, I don't give a _rat's ass_ what those pretentious losers think a' me. I'm here for two reasons: because I want Charlie's dream to work more than anything, and to make sure that psycho bitch doesn't pull another mutant genocide out of her ass."

"It's not like they haven't tried to be friendly with you, though!" Alex argued unhappily, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. "Wasp is mouthy but she means well. You'd probably like her ideas on progressive fashion designs if you'd give her half a chance. Thor is actually fun to be around-have you seen how much that guy loves to party?! Hell, even Wanda tried to save your life at Xavier's funeral. She seems truly sorry for what she did, although we all know she's trying to make up for something that can't be forgiven. But what's her alternative, to just give up and stop working towards fixing the shit she caused? I understand why you don't trust her but come on, Rogue. I...I've never seen you so withdrawn and hostile like this. You always used to find a way to bring everyone together...you used to have such a love of life, no matter how bad things got."

Instead of sarcastically snapping at him like she wanted to, she sighed grumpily and folded her arms over her chest. Her history with Alex went way back- over a decade's worth of fighting beside and against each other. She knew him well enough to tell that he was genuinely concerned about her.

"Look here, sugar, I'm not gonna go spy on Erik. Find someone else to get you that kinda dirt. I really _do _feel terrible about killing Simon's brother. Even though he forgave me, I just don't want to be around that place right now and see him so sad. But I ain't gonna sit on the sidelines when there are so many megalomaniacs trying to kill us all. Just give me a night to myself and I promise I'll come back tomorrow morning and try to play nice, okay?"

The beatific smile that lit up his thin face reminded her of a school boy who had just heard the last class bell of the day. She favored him with a small smile in return, thinking that this emotional display was just one more thing to set him apart from his infamous brother; Scott was never this joyful. Without hesitation Alex reached out and put his bare hand over Rogue's gloved fingers, an act that would cause fear in more than a few people.

"I promise to try harder and make them understand what it's like to be us, pal," he said warmly, referring broadly to the animosity that mutants faced on a daily basis.

"Good luck with that," she drawled, patting his knuckles with her free hand. She felt a little better just cheering him up. He was nervous taking on so much responsibility, trying to be the hero that his brother used to be. Once upon a time, Scott Summers had been the X-Men's golden child, and they had all considered him the epitome of Charles Xavier's bright legacy to the world. But that was before he absorbed the deadly Phoenix force that had consumed his late wife. After succumbing to that horrible galactic temptation, all he had left behind was a shattered horde of disheartened mutants. The irreparable damage that Cyclops had caused to human/mutant relations was intensifying on a daily basis. Determined to right the wrong caused by his sibling, his brave younger brother was trying his damndest to show humanity that tolerance and compassion was still a viable option. Glancing beyond Alex, Rogue spied a group of teenagers throwing a softball around in the field by the edge of the pond. Her expression softened.

"Remember how we used to play baseball alla time in the Outback? Man, I miss those days."

He turned to follow her gaze and whistled as a hotshot young black teen leapt up unnaturally high to catch the ball. The kid was probably a mutant, but his friends either didn't notice or didn't care. They were just being children, enjoying a summer day.

"Bet we could take 'em..." Havok speculated with obvious amusement, wiggling his blond eyebrows expectantly.

"Pfff, I'm done pickin' on children, I did it long enough at the institute," she said jokingly as the bridge of her slightly upturned nose crinkled in amusement; she was referring to her stint as a teacher at the Jean Grey Academy. "Y'all go right on ahead though, I think I'd enjoy watching you git your butt handed to you by a thirteen year old in braces."

"I beat _your _ass plenty of times!" He huffed indignantly. "But you have a good point; maybe I'll suggest we play some b-ball or something with the whole squad to blow off some steam."

Now she was glaring at him again, genuine malice in her eyes. He started at the sudden change in her demeanor, frantically wondering what he'd said to deserve such a heated look.

"I don't like basketball and you know it."

Havoc slapped his hand to his forehead and grinned cheekily. "Oh yeahhhh, I forgot. You haven't played since that 'incident' ages ago -the one where you guys broke the no powers rule! You got totally _owned, _didn't you?"

"Boy, you are **really** steppin' on my last nerve today, ain't ya?" Shoving his shoulder hard, she pushed him off the iron bench and he fell into a sniggering, crumpled heap. She hated being reminded of that damned game. "If I still had Carol's powers, you'd be flying first class to Jersey City for that one. With_OUT_ a plane."

"Okay, okay, I can take a hint," he chuckled as he stood up and dusted himself off. The bright white circular pattern on the chest of his black uniform was peeping out of his jacket and he hurriedly zipped up his leather bomber to cover it.

Looking down at his teammate as he smoothed his tawny locks back into place, he added, "So I'll see you tomorrow, then? Call me if you need me, and keep an eye out for Skull's goons. One of the reporters mentioned that there had been sightings in Queens this morning. Promise me you'll stay safe, Anna."

Rogue gave her word and fist bumped him in a sisterly way, and then watched as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and wandered down the shady path towards Avengers Mansion. She settled back into her spot and contemplated the conversation. Being a petty, vindictive bitch really wasn't her style. However, the hopelessness she'd been feeling was hardly conducive to building healthy work relationships.

_Relationships, ha. More trouble than they're worth. _ She grouched. _The moxy on that boy! Suggestin' that getting' laid is the answer to mah problems. There's a typical man answer for ya: Bad day at the office? Go get you some lovin'! Car broke down? Hell, maybe the mechanic will give you a 'ride'! Just accidentally killed the brother of a team mate who you can't stand? Hunt down your ex and do the dance with no pants! Feh, Morons, all of 'em. _

Fuming, she tried to focus on the other aspects of what Alex had said, but her distracted mind wandered back to that fateful basketball game years ago. It had been her and Jubilee versus Wolverine and a cocky newcomer on the court behind the stately old Westchester manor that they'd called home. The scruffy Cajun loner was a friend of Storm's, so everyone tolerated him for the weather Goddess' sake even though no one trusted him as far as they could spit. Rogue had tried to be friendly, secretly grateful to hear another southern accent around the house- despite the fact that his particular dialect made him sound like Pepe LePew with a mouthful of marbles. At least her lilting Mississippi inflection was endearing. Up to that point in time, she hadn't had any real reason to dislike the guy. Once she had realized he was not only disregarding the "No Powers" stipulation of their game, however, but doing so in such a flagrantly disrespectful fashion, her temper had flared and she'd called him out on being a cheater. The only thing that had burned more brightly then her anger was the explosion from the kinetically charged basketball that sent her crashing through huge bay window of the upstairs library. Such underhanded retaliation wasn't enough for the jerk; he had dramatically scooped her out of the rubble just to gloat, and bent her over his knee as if he were some kind of twisted Rhett Butler. She had been torn between homicidal rage and being truly aroused for the first time in her young life. It wasn't until he was so up close and in her face, all sultry promise and thinly veiled innuendo, that she'd realized just how unbelievably handsome he was. Then the jackass tried to steal a kiss, and the urge to deck him won out over her raging hormones. She'd tempered the blow, though, cracking her fist across his jaw just hard enough to rattle his teeth. And he had STILL asked her out! +

_Ahhh, Remy. Ah shoulda hit ya harder, ya rotten snake_. Passersby couldn't help glancing at the hooded figure hunched over on a bench, her hand over her mouth as she covered an involuntary smile.

Gambit had texted her that morning after the disastrous P.R. statement went horrifically awry, asking if she was okay. Of course the national media was having a field day with the footage, playing it non-stop on all the major channels. While she was grateful that he still cared, she hadn't replied to him. Or to Kitty, Rachel, and everyone else who had tried to contact her. It was too upsetting to talk to anyone after she had accidentally broken the neck of Wonder Man's sick and twisted brother, the Grim Reaper, during a rousing speech by Alex. The psychopath had been trying to kill Wanda on national TV, and Rogue kicked herself for even trying to stop him. Remembering the look on Simon's face as his brother died dampened her spirits once more. She wondered what the Professor would have thought of her.

Suddenly, she felt like retching as a familiar image flashed across her mind's eye. It was a memory that had caused her to wake in a cold sweat every single night since she'd been kidnapped from Xavier's funeral. The last time she had seen the man who ultimately taught her control of her cursed power, his desecrated corpse was lying on a cold morgue slab, the peaceful expression of his death mask marred by his flayed open skull. Rogue fought to control the stinging in her eyes and willed herself not to cry in public. +

_Maybe Alex was kinda right. Ah could definitely use a distraction at least. _

The phone was in her hand before she even realized what she was doing. Looking down at it, she entered the lock code and fired off a text message before she could doubt herself.

.

_I admit I only picked up Uncanny Avengers because Rogue has been my hero since I was 12. The first few issues were intriguing enough to hold my interest, even though it pained me to see the other characters continuously referring to her as 'white trash' and treating her like she was below them. Fast forward to Thanksgiving of 2013, when UA #15 came out…I wish I could 'thank' him for darkening my holiday with a swift kick to the unmentionables.____The writer, Rick Remender, (hisses) all but admits NOW, in March of 2014, that Rogue was just a plot device- and he treated her as such instead of explaining her motives_. I was so upset that he portrayed Rogue so out of character that I felt the need to justify her actions in my own way and throw in some good ol' fashioned romance to boot. Gambit has been treated far better in the comics for the last year, but I've never been happy with all the on-again, off-again crap that the editors put them through. Every now and then an artist and/or a writer slips a 'Romy' moment under the radar, and it gives me hope. *Salutes Mr. Asmus and Mr. Mann for the tender moments in Gambit #11, 12 and 17, which brought me back to the X-Men fold after 6 years of not picking up a single issue*. Anyway! Here's what I wish had happened before Rogue kicked the bucket- I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and thank you for reading!

_+1) If you have never read X-Men #4, you should probably stop reading this fanfic right now. SHAME ON YOU. (seriously though, you young un' s need to read it, many consider it to be the start of the whirlwind romance that is Rogue and Gambit.)_

_+2) Uncanny Avengers #2. Poor Professor X _


	2. Chapter 2

Downtown Manhattan occasionally reminded Gambit of home, especially on hot, sunny days like this one. The usual 'New York minute' attitude was more lax as residents slowed down to seek relief from the oppressive summer heat. Unlike New Orleans, however, where the locals were more accustomed to the humidity, here the people were less friendly to one another; cabbies were more violent and the street performers were all but non-existent. Still, there was a spring in his step as he did his most mundane of necessary chores: Grocery shopping. Raiding the fresh mango bin at the open air market a block from his apartment in the East Village, he nimbly ducked through the many crowded stalls -a graceful acrobat in a sea of slow moving slugs. The cute little redheaded cashier was on duty and she giggled coquettishly when he dazzled her with one of his charming smiles. He already had her number; maybe tonight he'd finally give her a call. School was going to begin again soon after a long summer break and he had been putting off grading papers until it couldn't be ignored any longer...yet he was out and about, looking for any excuse to avoid responsibility and enjoy the weather. Life was good today, stupid chores be damned. The liquor store was his next stop, and he bought an extra pack of beer with the idea that grading final exams would be far simpler if he was drunk. +

He was on his way back to the apartment when a jazzy trombone note bleated from his right pants pocket. Shifting the paper bag to his left arm, he read the text from his ex-girlfriend. She was replying to the concerned inquiry he'd fired off this morning after watching the news.

"Been better. U in town? Could use a friend," it stated simply.

_Huh. Odd. _ Most of the time her messages would run on so long that it felt like he was interpreting a book. He didn't need his passive empathic ability to read between the lines; for Rogue to ask for companionship meant that either an alien imposter had gotten ahold of her phone or she was pretty damn depressed.

_Fantastique. So much for an enjoyable evenin'_, he grumbled to himself. Ever since he had refused her invitation to join the Avengers, she had been distant. An indignant part of his subconscious immediately tried to throw a tantrum, balking at the notion of having to be a sympathetic friend instead of entertaining more pleasurable activities for the night. Shaking his head from side to side, he slid the phone back into his pocket with a resigned air.

Almost as soon as he was through the titanium lined front door to his small apartment, he was besieged by three small, hungry monsters. The orange hairball was halfway up his pants leg, mewling pitifully, before he was able to get the can of cat food open.

"Descendez-vous chat fou! (Get down, you crazy cat)" he almost shrieked as the kitten's sharp claws came dangerously close to stabbing through the crotch of his jeans. Gripping Lucifer by the scruff of the neck, he pried the little beast away from the family jewels and set him on the floor with the food. "Merde. You'd think I never feed you ungrateful wretches." +

Putting the beer in the fridge and chucking the bag on the floor for the cats to play with, he tried to talk himself out of lying to Rogue and telling her he was out of town. _There are few things more painful than spendin' time with an ex who put you in the friend zone, _he reminded himself for what seemed like the thousandth time. It would be so much more rewarding to wine and dine a woman who would actually enjoy his company instead of one who was constantly, although unintentionally, finding new ways to torture him.

After half an hour of weighing options, he realized he was being unfair. Rogue had always been there when he'd needed a friendly shoulder to lean on, even at the risk of pissing off her boyfriend. His inherent good nature finally won over and he picked up his phone, ready to admit that he had no set plans for the evening. It was the truth: He'd taken care of his Thieves Guild business earlier in the week.

"Yah. I'm in nyc for 3 more days. Wanna do something?" He texted her.

The reply was almost instantaneous. "God yes. Let's get in some trouble."

Okay, he wasn't expecting that. Far be it for him of all people to preach against rash actions, but he wasn't about to work his way back onto the World's most wanted list so soon- especially not after the hell he'd gone through to get off of it. With the overwhelming amount of bad press she'd gotten into this morning, he had thought she would be more sensible about lying low as well.

"Where R U?" He hit send after typing, wondering what she was playing at.

"Central Park, by bow bridge."

"Give me an hour?"

"I'll be here. Thanks, sugar."

The inflection from the last message made him smile. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

.

She had grown tired of doing her brooding gargoyle impression and set out on a slow walk in an attempt to invigorate her numbed legs and butt. More than anything, she missed being able to soar amongst the clouds, especially since being able to fly away from the problem at hand was so much easier than trying to deal with it head on. Wolverine would have let her borrow the Jeep or his old Harley if she'd asked, but to be honest, she didn't feel like sitting in traffic. Enduring the closeness of strangers on public transit wasn't an option either. Her skin was tingling, a warning sign that her emotional state was taxing the fine control over her power. People-watching usually helped alleviate her paranoia; she took comfort in the mundane actions of oblivious people doing oblivious things. In the last few years, it seemed like every other day was a new villain to defeat, another betrayal to be dealt with. Observing the blissfully ignorant was rapidly becoming the number one way to reassure herself that yes, it was still possible to have a normal life. Today had been a bad idea, though; having to be constantly on guard for paparazzi, super villains and careless tourists had quickly eroded the small amount of composure she had left.

_Shoulda gone to a pet store or the zoo,_ she frowned as yet another ill-mannered foreign visitor bumped into her elbow. Making her way to the bridge, she flattened her body up against the stone banister. It was while she was throwing fifty cents worth of feed to the lone black swan that a random yellow daisy appeared to her right, its cheerful face seeming to float on the edge of her vision.

"You scowl any harder an' your face is goin' to stick like dat."

The flower's stem was delicately pinched between Gambit's outstretched thumb and forefinger as he casually leaned on his other elbow against the railing, his body just close enough to imply a degree of intimacy but far enough away to be respectable. Clad in a vintage, bay colored biker jacket, faded T-shirt and ripped jeans that were snug in all the right places, he exuded easy confidence without sticking out in a crowd. Although he'd always been obnoxiously handsome, today it would have been easy to mistake him for an undercover celebrity. The designer shades, stylishly disheveled chestnut hair pulled back into a mini ponytail and devil-may-care grin added to the effect; hell, he could have been a GQ model. This fact was not lost on the lady joggers who looked back at him over their shoulders as they passed by. Over the years Rogue had become accustomed to women gawking at the outrageous Cajun and no longer felt the surge of jealous insecurity that had once plagued her whenever they went out in public together. Besides, she knew full well that when she wasn't dressed like bum she'd caused more than a few inattentive men to walk into poles and doors. Depression notwithstanding, she couldn't help smiling at the charming Cajun.

He'd been wondering if a hug would be inappropriate, given the awkwardness that existed between them since they'd split up, but after seeing the wounded look in her tired eyes he instinctively held his arms out in open invitation. Rogue hugged him as though gravity might fail at any moment and send her spinning off into space. He squeezed her tightly in return, his neck bent slightly so that they touched cheek to cheek, and savored the fact that he was one of a select few people in the universe who was allowed to touch her so casually. Momentarily intoxicated by the heady scent of his aftershave and cologne, she vaguely noted that he was clean shaven (for once!) and blissfully closed her eyes.

"Hey, chere." He said softly against her ear.

_Holy hell, she look like a damn ghost! _was his shocked thought upon observing her ashen complexion. She had always sported sassy curves and a breathtaking hourglass figure; now she seemed so fragile that he was afraid she might break if he held her too long. Hiding in an oversized sweatshirt (that appeared ready to swallow her at any moment) and her beat up old cowboy boots, the only giveaway that there was a body underneath all that frump were the form fitting, boot cut levi's that hinted at a shapely ass.

"Hi yourself, swamp rat. Although today I'm more inclined to think of you as mah knight in shining armor," she said, reluctantly releasing her grip on his ribcage.

Rubbing her arms from elbow to shoulders and back in a comradely fashion, he laughed, trying like hell to ignore the dullness in her usually sunny tone. "Funny thing about dat...when I was in London working with Pete Wisdom, I got trapped in Avalon for a few days. Technically speakin', I actually AM a knight!" +

"I believe it," she said as she took the daisy and twirled it a few times before tucking it behind her ear without removing her hood. "Hope you got a fast horse, Sir LeBeau."

Gambit beamed, mentally patting himself on the back instead of grimacing at how she was in full 'turtle' mode as she slid on her favorite green tinted sunglasses. "Jus' got a new one, as a matter of fact. Actually bought it fair and square, too. Well, mostly fair...salesman owed me a favor."

Languidly draping his arm around her shoulder, he steered her in the direction of the parking lot at the end of the path, eager to show off his brand new motorcycle. She tentatively put her hand on the small of his back and calmed her screaming nerves into submission.

"Woooo honey! Is that a 2014 Breakout?" She acknowledged appreciatively when he stood next to his new Harley with his hands on his hips and chest puffed out proudly. The motorcycle gleamed fire, the afternoon sunlight highlighting the metallic flake in the reddish orange pearl paint. The frame was a glossy black and the rest was doused in a liberal amount of chrome. He already had it outfitted with detachable bags and backrests.

"Damn straight! Magnifique, eh?"

"Sure is!" She admired the motorcycle with the trained eye of a master mechanic. With a sly sidelong glance, she added, "I get to drive it, right?" +

"Pfff, I don' think so, madamoiselle!" He snorted, grateful to hear that there was still some spunkiness hiding in this shell of person. "I wouldn't trust nobody but you to work on it, though."

She pretended to pout, and on impulse he found himself reaching over to gently tug her heavy hood back. He half expected bats to fly out as he asked, "Ain't you hot in there?"

Gasping as her curly auburn hair sprung forth, she clamped her hands over her white bangs and looked around wildly as though she was expecting an attack.

"REMY!" She exploded, whipping the cloth back over her head and glaring at him. "There are paparazzi _everywhere_!"

"Désolé! (sorry!)" He apologized, scanning the area but finding that no one had noticed. Rogue was jumpy, looking like she would fly away...if she still could. He reached for her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "Hey! Hey, it's okay, Anna. Calm down, ain't no one actin' crazy here but you."

Now that she was a member of what was supposed to be a nationally respected super hero team, it was a stinging blow to have to conceal who she was. The white skunk streak was her most prized, uniquely defining attribute. Taking a few deep breaths once she realized that no one was coming after her with a camera or blunt object, she turned a mournful face to her concerned rescuer. "I'm sorry too, you were just tryin' to be...well, you. It just really sucks, havin' to hide who I am."

Gambit leaned down so that they were almost mouth to mouth, and for one crazy moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he pulled his sunglasses down slightly with the tip of his finger and exposed the one mutant trait that would have kept him from becoming any model, especially GQ material. Blood red irises glinting in sharp contrast to his black schleras, he said sarcastically, "Tell me 'bout it."

_Oh, those eyes. How could anyone ever think that they ain't beautiful?! _ Rogue's breath hitched in her throat, and she immediately realized her faux pas. He saw the flicker of embarrassment in her expression and winked, letting her know that he didn't take offense, then slid the glasses back into place before she could stammer out an apology.

"Now then, m'lady! Is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?" He exclaimed grandly, the bike's springs creaking as he slipped onto his seat. He patted the space behind him.

She swung a leg up behind him, pulling the strings to her hoodie tight and hooking her arms around his waist as she buried her face in the space between his shoulder blades. "Anywhere but here, sugar."

«.»

_Still reading? Yayyy! Thank you!_

_+1) At the end of the X-Men Legacy run and all of the Gambit series, Remy was teaching Art History and Sex Ed at the Jean Grey Academy. He wasn't overly fond of it, and lost all interest once Rogue left the school. See Gambit #17 for the hilarious interaction between Professor LeBeau, Professor Kitty and Headmaster Wolverine ;) (Side note I forgot to mention last chapter: Rogue also taught there, but she was in charge of History and team dynamics coaching. Why on Earth she didn't teach Automotive and Gambit didn't teach Savate/Bojutsu is beyond me, because I bet they both would've enjoyed their teaching positions a LOT more.)_

_+2) Gambit's kittens: Oliver (gray), Figaro (white seal point) and Lucifer (Orange). The kind folks at CBR pointed out to my dumb ass that they're all named after Disney cat characters, because Gambit is a closet nerd. _

_+3) Gambit #14, where he proves to be the bane of Pete Wisdom's existence and we learn that the closet nerd has also read all of the Harry Potter books._


	3. Chapter 3

The thrum of the Harley's engine was soothing, and after a while she started paying more attention to the rolling Long Island countryside instead of the grainy swirl patterns in the material of his jacket. The Expressway traffic was thinning out the further they got from the city, clusters of bustling towns giving way to farmland and expanses of forest. Hanging just above the horizon, the sun seemed reluctant to turn in for the night. She wondered how long it had been since she'd been home and frowned. 'Home' was a relative word -she didn't have a set address or even a specific area that she could call her own anymore. To her, home was the Mississippi countryside; the warmhearted hospitality of small town folk, breaded and fried _everything_ washed down with cold, homemade 'shine, a tire swing over the river on a hazy afternoon...all the laid back and lazy things that residents in the Northern half of the US simply didn't have time for. Finding that she couldn't recall a visit south of the Mason Dixon that didn't involve drama or X-men, she sighed.

_Gonna have to rectify that soon. _She looked at the back of Gambit's head and whimsically thought of asking if he'd want to catch a plane instead of gallivanting off into the sunset. Travelling anywhere with him was always entertaining, but she doubted that he'd want to spend his free time indulging her like he had when they were dating. For the last month he had been making lame excuses not to hang out, until she'd pretty much given up on getting him to talk at all. It was humbling that he'd been gracious enough to make time for her tonight, although she was sure it was more out of sympathy than an actual desire for her company. He was savvy enough to know that if she skipped town without warning, her team could suffer potentially disastrous effects. Presumably that was his reason for heading to the furthest point on the island: they would be far away enough from the hustle of the city but close enough to respond if she were needed. The sight of the Montauk Park welcome sign confirmed her theory. In short order the pine trees thinned out and dispersed altogether, the desolate road dead-ending on a barren spit of land that jutted dramatically out into the Atlantic Ocean.

Gambit actually had several reasons for bringing her out so far, the most important being that he wanted to analyze her state of mind more carefully before unleashing her on the general populace. Rogue's mercurial temperament was mostly a by-product of having to deal with so many conflicting psyches for nearly all of her adult life. It was only recently that she'd learned enough fine control over her power to take only certain attributes of whomever she touched, instead of knocking them out cold and stealing their personalities as well as their powers. The rest of her attitude...well, that just came with the territory, he thought wryly. Hence the two hour ride; he figured that would be plenty of time to calm her frayed nerves and hopefully put her in a better mood. Maneuvering the bike around the half-full parking lot, he chose the furthest spot to lessen the likelihood of dents from careless visitors.

"Thought you were gonna keep drivin' into the ocean," she joked, stretching her stiff muscles after clambering down from her seat.

"Maybe I should have...looks to be a nice night for skinny dippin'," he offered suggestively, then deliberated a moment to see how she would react to open flirting.

She didn't rise to his baiting, merely huffing a noncommittal noise and rummaging through the saddlebags without asking. He looked at her suspiciously and was glad that he wasn't hiding any sensitive stolen objects for a change.

"Ahh hah!" She exclaimed when she found his torn and faded red baseball hat. Sliding it onto her head as she pulled back her hood, she was careful not to dislodge any telltale white hair. She twisted the remaining mess of cinnamon curls into a loose ponytail. The daisy was long gone, a victim of the same driving wind that had brightened her cheeks to a more pleasant pink. He was mildly amused to see her sporting the gold hoop earrings that she used to wear constantly.

"You were right, Ah was hot as hell in there. 'Bout drowned mahself!" Unzipping, Rogue stripped off her sweatshirt and flapped it vigorously several times. When she turned to acknowledge him, she a little amused to see that Gambit's gaze was riveted on her crinkled white cotton camisole. Embroidered with sparkling iridescent beads around the plunging neckline, the v-shaped hem exposed a surprising amount of her pale back and toned stomach. What caught his attention, though, was that the fabric clung damply to her midriff and exposed the lines of her nude colored bra.

Snapping her fingers in his face as she fluffed the fabric away from her sweaty skin, she declared, "Eyes are up here, gumbo."

"Yah…you, ahh, you could enter a wet t-shirt contest if you keep dat thing on any longer," he exclaimed. His head whipped up to find her scowling, and the wicked smile that had been forming dispersed instantly. "Old habits are kinda hard to kick, chere..."

Rolling her eyes, she tentatively peeled off her kidskin gloves and tucked them into the bag with the hoodie. "Y'all behave or else Ah'm gonna be the one doin' the kickin'. Knights are supposed to be chivalrous."

"Absolument ma dame. Après vous, (Absolutely, my lady. After you)" he retorted politely, mock bowing and gesturing for her to go first down the path to the grassy knoll that overlooked the ocean.

He had been expecting a smile at the very least but was disappointed; she merely acquiesced with a nod and started walking. Pursing his lips in consternation, he followed after her and tried not to notice the sway of her hips. The hypnotic charm he wielded so indifferently rarely worked on her but it didn't stop him from trying. For a long time he had been forcing himself to acclimate to a life without her in it simply because he couldn't handle being "just a friend" anymore. It was so much less painful when he didn't have to physically see her, although sticking to that principle required near constant distractions. Unfortunately, they were the kind of distractions that landed him on 'Most Wanted' lists. Since the brief few moments when he had held her in Central Park he had been inundated with memories of happier times, however, and it was only with serious difficulty that he was able to push them to the back of his mind.

_Ironic, _he thought as he trudged along, _she's the one who __**takes**__ memories, not gives them. _

They sat on the dewy grass in companionable silence for a while, observing the setting sun as it painted vivid pinkish orange strokes across the cerulean sky. It was surreal to watch the emerging stars and know that they had both seen them up close, far closer than any astronaut would ever see. As the shadow from the towering candy cane-striped lighthouse reached closer to them, Rogue leaned back on her elbows and asked, "You remember when we used to sit on the beach an' do this just about every night...?"

Gambit kept his focus on the darkening sky, absentmindedly picking blades of crabgrass from the area around where he had sprawled out. At length he answered softly, "As if I could forget."

_That was brilliant, ya dumbass. Don't bring up the past! _ She awkwardly changed the subject. "Pity we didn't bring any wine. Ah could go for gettin' a lil' hammered tonight. Might even make me sociable enough for some dancin'.."

Glancing his way when he snorted in response, she was surprised to find him smirking at nothing. "Wha...what's so funny?"

"Your accent comes out more when I'm around. 'Nother two minutes and you probably gonna be hunting crawdads wit' your bare hands and singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'. I wonder if there's any General Lee replicas 'round here dat we could steal," he chuckled, still deliberately refusing to make eye contact as he folded his arms behind his head.

"Pshaww," she snorted, exaggerating her southern inflection. "Like ya don't turn into one a' them 'Swamp People' hillbillies when Ah'm near ya. Quit tryin' ta change the subject."

He inhaled slowly and then breathed out in a measured pace, thinking, _Here we go…_

"You sure bein' a drunken social butterfly is a good idea right now? I know this morning was an accident, but still, over the last few years I'm noticing dat you don't show hardly any remorse after killing, whether it's by accident or on purpose," Gambit said in a monotone, cringing inwardly as the words left his mouth.

Under happier circumstances, drinking tended to make her wildly uninhibited and a total hoot to be around. However, when Rogue had tried to drown sorrow or anger with alcohol she almost always ended up picking a fight with whatever unlucky soul happened to be within reach. More often than not, that someone happened to be him. Getting drunk and starting a bar brawl was the kind of thing he'd do with Wolverine. They'd laugh off the bruises and busted knuckles like it was nothing, because in the end that's exactly what it was; Just two friends blowing off steam. With her it was a different story; either he was biting his tongue to keep from saying something regretful or trying to keep her from trouncing whatever moron provoked her- no matter how much that moron might deserve the ass kicking.

"Ah can't believe Ah'm hearing this! Mr. Reckless himself, the Prince of Thieves, tellin' _me _Ah shouldn't have a good time because of an accident? Ah did what had to be done and Ah'd do it all over again," she seethed.

Even though she was fully cognizant of the fact that her social behavior should exemplify the moral guidelines of the Avengers Unity Squad, having to play by such strict rules grated on her naturally rebellious soul. With the wily Cajun by her side she thought she'd feel more like her old carefree self. Instead, he was trying to subtly manipulate her with guilt, and doing a horrible job at that. Looking out for her well-being was admirable, being a hypocrite was not.

"Numéro un, I am the _King_ of Thieves, and numéro deux, I'm not _tellin_' you to do anything. I remember you being all bent outta shape when you killed that Goth homme. You agonized dat you were turnin' into y' momma for days until you came to grips wit' what happened, and you sure as hell didn't wanna paint the town red. Hell, _you even tried to kill_ _y'momma_," he said tersely.+ In a more understanding tone, he added, "'Legacy' wouldn't have treated the dead so lightly. It just ain't like you to be partying after killin' a man…even if he was a bad person. "

Rogue's fingers clawed into the ground, ripping up sizeable chunks of dirt as her eyes narrowed at the mention of her one-time alter ego. Gambit tensed. _Maybe if I play possum she won't kill me..._

"Legacy" had developed during one of the mind bending escapades that the X-Men had been subjected to. Rogue had become a self-appointed angel of mercy, helping to ease the passing of fellow mutants with her power and taking their memories unto herself so that they would live on in a spiritual form. Her teammates had been terrified of her, calling her "Reaper", even though she had tried desperately to make them understand that she was only trying to help. In the end, Gambit had been the only one who believed in her and helped them all break free of the epic mind f*** that Charles Xavier's wayward son had inadvertently created for them. Ironic then, that she had killed an actual Grim Reaper today. +

Gambit was calculating just how quickly he could get back to his bike when she exhaled explosively and flung two fistfuls of turf into the ocean, then flopped down on her back. The baseball hat popped off of her head, her skunk streak glimmering silver against the grass in the encroaching twilight.

"At what point in time did you start becoming the voice of moral guidance and Ah started being the impulsive idjit?" she huffed dejectedly. "And to think, Ah'm the one who had to tell mah team all kinda lies to cover _your_ dumbass escapades. Ah couldn't even look Barton in the eye when Ah gave back the ID card you stole from him!" +

His small smile at Hawkeye's wrath rapidly turned upside down. "Yeah, well, when life kicks your ass as much as it's been kickin' mine lately, you might find y'self standing back and wondering if you're doing things for the right reasons."

"So you actually DO have reasons for doing the dopey things you do?" She sniped teasingly. A moment later she abruptly turned on her side to face him and exclaimed, "Waitaminnit- _King_? Did something happen to Jean Luc?!"

_Holy delayed reaction, Batman, _he laughed to himself. Rogue had a soft spot for his manipulative foster father that never ceased to amaze him. She adored most of his Thieves Guild family as well, admiring the intense and traditional bonds that bound them together, and most of them returned the sentiment in kind. The last time she had gone to New Orleans with him, he'd nearly had to pry Merci off her with a stick. He wasn't sure they genuinely liked Rogue as much as they enjoyed having her in their city, simply because her presence riled the Assassins Guild to no end. Belladonna, his ex-wife and leader of the rival clan, had supposedly gotten so worked up at one point that her own second-in-command had risked demotion by slipping a roofie into her wine to prevent an all-out bloodbath and breaking of the peace treaty. That had been years ago, but it didn't stop his adoptive family from asking about the Mississippi marauder's wellbeing every time he went home to visit.

"He's fine, although he's looking more an' more like Captain Morgan since he started hanging out in the tropics." +

Rogue waited patiently, indicating that she wanted to know more. Eyeing her keenly, he weighed just how much more information would be safe to admit without indicting her in his affairs.

"All the guilds across the world been crossing into…unacceptable… territory lately, an' it's gotten past the point that he can keep them in order by himself. Things be getting darker and dirtier all the time, all the new blood don't want to stick to the old ways. Thieves honor and whatnot, y'know? I had to undertake a pretty shitty test to prove that I could handle this new bunch."

"Ahh. Is _that_ what that prison thing was all about? Were you goin' through a second tilling or something?" she asked, referring to the Guild's brutal rite of passage.

"Something like dat, yeah. Nobody was playing by the rules, though, so I didn't either."

"Well that makes SOO much more sense than me tellin' everyone that you were breaking into a maximum security prison to stop a criminal arms dealer from blowing up the world."

He barked out a short laugh at her testy tone. "Oh Dieu, woman- you always tryin' to make me look like the hero that I ain't. Don't ever change, chere; otherwise my reputation might actually catch up t' me."

"Like that'll ever happen. No one bought it anyway; most of all of them hate me."

"If I know your stubborn ass, you're probably not giving them much of a choice."

She smiled mirthlessly at that. "Cain't say Ah blame them for it. Saying '_Oh hey, would y'all mind helping me spring mah ex-boyfriend outta jail_?' went over real well. You shoulda seen Cap's face, Ah thought he was gonna explode. They all think Ah'm white trash as it is."

"Riiight. Because white trash reads Dostoyevsky and Poe. You earn y' keep in blood and busted knuckles more than any of them self-righteous hypocrites," he snorted derisively.

_So he DOES understand_, she thought smugly. A salty breeze ruffled her hair and she looked up at the first stars twinkling through the darkened velvet sky as her tone dropped an octave.

"Ah really do need to get out and enjoy life tonight, Remy. To do something cheerful, remind me that there's more to the world than death and drama… and not think about what happened today. Ah seem to remember a certain Cajun always braggin' about lettin' the good times roll, an' you ain't ever been one to let life hold you down for long. So are you up for a little fun tonight or are you gonna hold me hostage out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Chere, I'll be _**up**_ for anything you wanna do, especially if it involves 'holding you hostage'," he implied breezily, double entendre hinting at how he'd prefer to spend the evening. "Whatchu you got in mind?"

"Oh, Ah don't know...at first Ah thought us breaking into someplace would be fun, but ya right: Being brash right now is courting disaster. Dancing is sounding better and better. Maybe some place loud and obnoxious and where no one would notice me would be fine," she said, trying to ignore his sleazy suggestions. She briefly recalled her recent skirmish and escape from the Red Skull's henchmen, slipping free of her shackles thanks to a bondage game trick that she had learned from Gambit during one of their kinkier bedroom experiments. "Although that reminds me- Ah owe you a beer." +

"Qoi? To what do I owe the honor?"

"Well, let's just say that something I learned from you helped me get out of a sticky situation," she replied cryptically. The corners of her mouth twitched and a faint blush ghosted her cheekbones for a moment. Although he didn't catch the physical evidence thanks to the darkness, he picked up on the subtle shift in her tone like a hawk might detect a mouse under a foot of fallen leaves.

"Drinking and dancing it is, then," he stated matter-of-factly, as he briefly researched options on his phone. He was already forming a game plan that would keep her from getting too riled up. Maybe even grateful enough to let him through her defenses and enjoy a date like they used to.

«.»

_+1) Remember during X-Men: Messiah Complex when Rogue was in a coma, her powers mutated into an instantaneous 'death-touch', and Mystique held baby Hope to Rogue's bare skin to cure her? Rogue tried to kill her then for putting an innocent child at risk. Before all that happened, Rogue had asked for Mystique to be on her team, as she knew that her foster mother would turn on them at some point and wanted to be the one to take her out when it happened. Rogue keeping an her mother and being ready to kill her at a moment's notice is an interesting parallel between Rogue and the Scarlet Witch in Uncanny Avengers. Gotta say, the girl's gut instinct has been right on the money!_

_+2)_ _Age of X storyline. Excellent read and Mann's artwork was gorgeous, if I do say so myself._

_+3) A + X #3, Hawkeye vs Gambit. Otherwise known as the Nerd Wars, lol. (Still laughing over the 'Sweetums' and 'Katniss' references)_

_+4) Captain Morgan is another hero of mine, and not just for the rum (although I'm pretty sure I've come close to singlehandedly keeping them in business a time or two). I squee'd like a mofo when I saw Jean Luc's new look in Gambit #16 & 17, and again in X-Factor #3. _

_+5) THIS IS THE ONLY THING REMENDER HAS DONE THAT I THOROUGHLY ENJOYED! Uncanny Avengers #2, when Rogue steals the water-based powers of one of her captors. And I quote, "Establish a connection—borrow a neighborly cup o' super-powers with a touch. Next up—get wet. Thank Remy LeBeau for all those kinky bondage drinking games." Finally! __**Finally**__ someone admits what most Romy fans have always expected, that the Southern Belle and the Cajun were into S&M! I about died laughing :3_


	4. Chapter 4

The bar Gambit chose was not large by any standard, but was artfully decorated in a modern country theme and promised unforgettable barbecue. Years of carousing around New York in his off time from the X-men had familiarized him with most every bar and restaurant on the island. He had brought Lara and Jubilee here to the town of Riverhead for dinner once, and although Jubes had griped that "country bumpkin wasn't her style", she'd still enjoyed the food and generally cheerful atmosphere. Lara had been indifferent, as usual, but he noted that they had made it through the evening without her popping her claws or decking anyone -which meant that Rogue should do fine as well.

_It can't be healthy to be gauging bars by how they affect a seventeen year old Wolverine clone, _he mused after he had pocketed his keys and disabled the motorcycle using a hidden fingerprint recognition reader. His friend Fence had installed a complicated alarm system for him as a gift, but not before ribbing him mercilessly about buying the Harley instead of stealing it.

Rogue was back in her hoodie, looking considerably more relaxed but still hiding under the baseball cap. He crossed his arms and fixed her with a stern look.

"What?"

"You might'a been able to get away with it in the park, but you gonna look conspicuous as all hell in a busy restaurant, femme. The hat's bad enough. You best lose dat parka if you're serious 'bout blending in." His tone was adamant.

"It ain't that obvious!"

"You goin' to rob the place?"

"Aughhh, _fine_! Good thing we ain't goin' to a strip joint then," she grouched as she unzipped the hoodie once more, then balled it up and forcefully smacked it down on the bike's seat. With a dirty look in his direction, she stalked across the blacktop towards the brightly lit shops on the other side of the street.

"Now_ there's_ something we haven't done in a long time..!" He chortled as he fell into step beside her. "Remember when we got tanked an' I dared you to enter dat amateur night? You went by 'Daisy Dukes' and you won first pri-"

"DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKIN' ABOUTTTTT….!" Rogue warned loudly in a sing-song tone, cutting him off midsentence and quickening her pace. She didn't need to see his grin to feel it burning into her backside. There were some outings she just didn't want to remember. +

Reaching the entrance to Cody's Bbq first, she paused momentarily to stare at the garish neon sign. Glancing pointedly from it to him and back, her heated glare was bitterly resentful. He shrugged noncommittally. Either he had forgotten the significance of the name or he didn't care. _Ah hope ta God this was unintentional, _she thought darkly. Swinging the thick wooden door open with excessive force, she nearly cracked him in the face with it. He dodged it easily, as though he'd been waiting for her to take a shot at him. It was bad enough that he had been expecting her to be a crybaby over the day's events without throwing in a seeming reference to poor little Cody Robbins, the first person she'd ever accidentally harmed with her power. +

The restaurant was longer than it was wide, a warm smattering of copper on the bar and stools and exposed wooden beams supporting the ceiling. Tasteful country knick knacks adorned the mustard colored walls and there were half a dozen large screens smattered throughout the bar area; Rogue noted gratefully that all of them were tuned to sports channels. The back half was blocked off for some sort of event and most of the bar stools and tables were already filled with chatty patrons. A glance at the blackboard to the right of the hostess stand announced that tonight was reserved for line dancing.

'_Really?' _she mouthed to him over the cacophony emanating from the bar, an eyebrow raised skeptically.

He sidled uncomfortably close and said in her ear, "Less touching than a club, thought you'd approve. 'Sides, after all dat angry hate metal you been listening to, some country music'd do you a world of good."

Neck prickling where his breath had warmed her skin, she was unnerved more by his proximity than by the fact that he had guessed her thoughts on wanting to go back down to the south for a spell. Although kinetic energy disruption and hypnotic charm were his mutant powers, he had a strong empathic sense as well, so it didn't surprise her that he had picked up on her thoughts from earlier. However, she worried that she was projecting insecurity by letting his flirting cause her such discomfort- especially since it had been so long that she'd let him get under her skin. Squaring her shoulders back, she shored up the defensive attitude that had served her so well and locked down her negative emotions.

"I'm gonna need some liquid courage before I try this level of silliness," she said loudly, nodding towards the brightly lit wall of liquor bottles. She had dialed back the thickness of her accent to seem less recognizable.

A harried young man apologized for the wait and offered a corner booth, faltering for a moment when Rogue smiled sweetly at him and then lightly brushed her hand across his forearm in an overly friendly way. Gambit coolly observed her change in attitude without a word, following the two of them while surreptitiously sizing up the customers. It was second nature for him to mentally mark the escape routes and note how many open purses and jacket pockets lay between him and the table.

Leading the good-looking lady and her brooding companion to their seats, the dark haired host wondered which Hampton-dwelling, incognito well-to-do's they might be. Cody's saw its fair share of famous folk, and these two looked awfully familiar. He gave them over to the bubbliest waitress they had for the evening, excusing himself with a warm smile to the woman and a polite head bob to her tall friend, who merely nodded in return but kept his gaze focused downwards at the table. The waitress introduced herself as Veronica and proceeded to ramble off the night's many specials without taking a breath. Rogue chuckled and congratulated the chipper girl on her ability to remember so much of the menu, as well as having an exceptional lung capacity to repeat all of the selections. Veronica blushed prettily, unsure how to take the flirty compliment. Ordering a beer and a shot of Jack Daniels, Rogue then turned to Gambit with an imperious expression. Chin tucked into his chest, he was quietly watching her from under his bangs. She caught his flicker of surprise at the fact she had just flirted with another woman just before his mouth curled into a sardonic smile. +

_Is that how we're gonna play tonight, chere? Game on!_

Still staring Rogue down, he politely ordered a beer as well and a glass of bourbon. Faithfully scribbling in her notebook, the waitress was just about to turn and leave when the gentleman looked up at her. She had been wondering if he was pathologically shy for not making eye contact while ordering, when suddenly she found herself lost in a disconcertingly warm pair of reddish eyes set deep into a rakishly handsome face. Once, when she was just out of high school, her friends had talked her into volunteering for some ridiculous comedian's 'hypnosis' act. Although her buddies still ripped on her about not remembering how she had strutted around the stage, clucking like a chicken, she remembered well the sinking feeling she had experienced as the movement of the antique pocket watch lulled her into a dream state. This was almost the same sensation, only with more of a salaciously perverted promise that made her knees go weak. Instinctively reaching out for the edge of the table to steady herself, the man caught her wrist and smiled at her; a flash of straight white teeth in an engaging grin.

"Easy there, Miss Veronica!" he purred with a deep, honeyed voice, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. "Wouldn't want you to end up on ya knees so early in the evening, eh?"

Veronica's pink cheeks turned crimson and she giggled. "S-Sorry, I don't know what came over me! I'll…uhh… just go get your drinks now.."

Gambit watched her stagger away, and glanced back at his ex-girlfriend from the corner of his eye. Rogue had her chin in her palm, entertained by the interaction she had just witnessed. Not jealous, he noted, just amused. _Huh. Dat's a new one_.

Clearing his throat, he settled back into the cushioned backrest with a sly smile and said airily, "Don't mess wit' a master, darlin'."

Studying him for a moment, she reached across the table with her fingers extended towards his face and joked, "Gimmie some a' that charm, ya swamp rat- maybe we can get all our drinks for free tonight!"

He laughed and dodged her hand, shooing her away with his napkin.

They ate lightly and drank heavily, although Gambit paced himself more evenly with a glass of water every other drink. He would have preferred to get bombed as well but wasn't about risk an accident so soon after acquiring his new Harley. The threat of a DUI didn't faze him; he had wormed his way out of plenty of those. Besides, the strange way that Rogue had switched from brooding to cheerful seemed too much like flipping a mental switch; one that could easily be turned back in the opposite direction with the wrong influence. Staying semi-sober seemed like the best way to prevent that influence from occurring.

Once Rogue realized she was smiling more than scowling, she randomly slapped her hands down on the table and half stood, announcing that she was ready to rock the dance floor. Veronica eagerly saw it as her cue to return, anticipating more of the back and forth banter between her most fascinating patrons of the evening- especially the ribald comments of the devilishly charming man. Presenting the check with a none-too-subtle wink at him, she asked them if they would be staying for dancing.

Gambit couldn't help lewdly replying, "If it's horizontal dancing, bien sûr (of course), chere!"

The brunette waitress hadn't been expecting him to be so forward, especially in the company of a woman that he'd obviously been deeply intimate with. Startled, she looked at the lady in the baseball cap, expecting her to be angry. Instead the woman had a secretive smile on her heart-shaped face as she reached for the check.

Slipping a handful of twenties into the black booklet before her companion could object, she handed it back to Veronica and said dryly, "Trust me, honey- he's all sexy and exotic until you hear him fart. After that, it's all downhill."

Veronica slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter at the lady's rude remark, stealing a glance at the brown haired gentleman. He was gaping openly at his compatriot, his dark eyes widened in indignant disbelief. The skin of his left eyelid was twitching in an Chief Inspector Dreyfus-esque fashion.

"It's not my fault dat beans mess me up!" he complained, obviously rankled, as their waitress giggled her gratitude and scooted away.

Rogue weaseled her way out of the booth and unkinked her back with a stretch, careful not to knock into anyone. As she turned to face him she jutted her left hip out cockily, a thumb hooked in her belt loop, and blatantly ignored his dirty look. "Y'all gonna come dance with me or should Ah go find someone else?"

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, taking her measure. Finally, he huffed, "You about as slick as crude oil, you know dat?"

"You love it, or else you wouldn't have come and got me, handsome," she conceded with a roll of her eyes, trying to inflate his flattened ego. Holding out her hand in offering, she silently thanked the alcohol for making her feel like her ballsy old self.

Scoffing at her outstretched fingers, he stood up, moved past her and smoothly hooked her waist instead. Spinning her around to face the opposite direction, he said, "You didn't have to buy, y' grossier petite con (rude little jerk). Let's go trip over the drunks before I find some other physical activity t' keep you busy."

"You'rrre wellllcommmme," said over her shoulder, letting him push her through the crowded dining area.

"Thaaaaank youuuu," he sang back, jutting his lower jaw out and sticking his tongue out at the back of her head.

.

_Not much to this chapter, just setting the scene for things to come. I was a bit hasty in promising a chapter a day- the next chapter likely will not be finished until next week because I'm beat from work, shoveling snow and not getting enough sleep!_

_+1) 10+ years of repressed hormones? Oh yeah, I'd be willing to bet money that Rogue cut loose and THEN some when they lost their powers and moved to Cali after the whole mess with Vargas…_

_+2) Cody's is a real place, in real Riverhead. Although he'll never read this, mad props to my army buddy 'Fug' for taking me out to dinner and cheering me up when I needed a friend. They really do have great BBQ, but don't let the bartender talk you into mixing shots afterwards because you WILL regret it the next day!_

_+3) If he had seen her kiss Black Widow in A + X #2, he might not have been as surprised, lol. _


	5. Chapter 5

Remaining inconspicuous in a crowd turned out to be more difficult than Gambit had thought. From an early age, he and Rogue had been drilled by their adoptive parents to understand that if one did not want to end up stabbed or shot, motion and thought often had to take place at the same time. Regular training sessions with their powerful teammates kept both of the former X-Men at the height of their physical endurance, and as a result, they moved far more gracefully than the average blue collar worker. Even half-drunk, Rogue still nimbly avoided impacts with over a dozen stumbling participants on the crowded dance floor, laughing with them as she and Gambit traded partners back and forth during couples songs. Dancing had always been a favored pastime of hers and she viewed it as an adrenaline rush similar to fighting, minus the risk of being punched in the face. She didn't even seem perturbed by the repeated flesh to flesh contact with total strangers; surprisingly, she almost seemed to welcome it. _Almost_. At one point an overly grabby roughneck tried to cop a feel and she rounded on him, ready to fight in an instant. Gambit had quickly pulled her back in line before she could clobber the moron, thinking that the man had just come closer to losing his front teeth than he would ever know.

The floor reverberated from the bass of the music, the twangy, rollicking beats driving them to increasingly outlandish moves. An oblivious onlooker might not have caught the passing slide of Gambit's fingers across the bare skin of Rogue's lower back or the seemingly casual brush of her thigh against his as they interwove around each other, sinuous as a pair of silken threads, but the spirited bond between them was noticeable to even the drunkest dancer. At one point, everyone had moved back to give them extra room while trying unsuccessfully to match their grace and enthusiasm. Just as the song "Fake ID" was reaching its crescendo, they rejoined hands after a particularly flashy maneuver. The Cajun pivoted her around into a double spin and rocked back on his heels to pull her dangerously close. Remembering a moment too late that she'd forced him to sit through the entire 'Footloose' remake and that he'd paid extra attention to this song in particular, Rogue's eyes widened. She cuffed the Creedence Clearwater logo in the center of shirt when she realized what move he was trying to get away with, drawing up her fist to block him from stealing a kiss. She stopped just shy of his jaw, the indigo fabric pulling up from where it was tucked into his jeans to reveal the sharply defined muscles of his abdomen. The silver Blackjack buckle of his belt dug suggestively into her belly while their hips gyrated together in time to the music, briefly branding her skin with the imprint of an ace of spades and a jack of hearts. Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl. Her field of vision narrowed so that everything was a blur except for his laughing mouth and the blaze of hunger in his bright eyes. Alarmed at the unexpected surge of intense desire, she gasped and ducked her face at the last half a second. Gambit had guessed what her reaction would be, although regret was apparent on his face as he planted a quick peck on her cheek before pushing her away. Falling back into her place in line, she dimly registered the lyrics to the song as time resumed its normal pace. +

The next song was a relatable one for her. She kicked her toes out a tad more violently and punctuated the words by stamping her heels extra hard, singing raucously, "Whose bed have your boots been underrr, whose heart did ya steal Ah wonderrrr…!"

Gambit glowered sidelong at her, stomping his own feet hard enough to rattle the floorboards. _Gonna have to have a talk with dat Dj…_

They danced separately and more slowly for a few more songs before Rogue excused herself for the ladies' room, at which point Gambit made for the bar to procure more drinks. Although not as intense as a Danger Room workout, he had still worked up a sweat. Several onlookers threw compliments his way and one of the professional line dancers clapped him on the shoulder appreciatively as he slipped through the crowd. The bartender was a short, older blonde with a bored smile that turned more interested once she glimpsed his eyes; apparently their waitress from earlier had gossiped some juicy information. They struck up a friendly conversation, which resulted in a few complimentary beers. Every so often he would glance towards the dance floor, wondering what was taking his date so long.

.

Hiding out in a bathroom stall, Rogue was taking a breather from the crush of flying elbows and knees. It had been ages since she had attempted to mingle with normal people, and she was having second thoughts as to how much longer she could keep up the cheerful façade. There were just too many mixed emotions going on all at once for her to feel comfortable being in public. As much as she hated to admit it, Gambit had been right to suggest that she should have dealt with her remorse in a less social atmosphere. The liquor had helped mute Simon's voice in her ear, crying over the loss of his brother, but it hadn't completely blocked out his psyche's angst. She figured more alcohol might be needed to shut him up completely. And then there was the other source of unsettlement; the Cajun himself. They had never taken the time to actually discuss their last breakup, choosing to ignore one another in a childish version of 'out of sight, out of mind'.

_What the hell was with that attempt at kissin' me?! _She wondered angrily. After she had gained control of her power, he had ceased his relentless teasing. Originally, she had thought that he was just being considerate of her request to give her the space and time to figure out what she wanted. But as weeks turned into months, she had begun to attribute his lack of flirting to the old adage that the chase was better than the prize. Gambit had always been obsessed with anticipation more than realization, and although she didn't miss being treated like his clueless one-night-stand quarry, the lack of amorous attention had saddened her. It hurt to think that he no longer felt any of their once powerful attraction, so the casual way that he had gone from disinterested best friend to flirty seemed unnatural after being 'just buddies' for so long. She pulled off the hat and ran her fingers through the damp roots of her hair, tugging on them in frustration as she tried to think of the best way to handle the remainder of the evening. _Ah could be a dick and go out the back door, catch a cab home…_

Suddenly, she sat up and laughed out loud, not caring if she startled the other women in the small bathroom. _Ah have fought down aliens and stood mah own against entire armies! Ah am NOT gonna back down to mah dipshit ex, and Ah am NOT gonna feel sorry for mahself! _+

.

Predictably, the obnoxious vagabond was sitting at the bar, engaged in what looked like an overly friendly chat with the bleach blonde bartender. It was getting late and the crowd was beginning to thin out, although there was still a sizable throng of patrons hovering around the beer taps. Rogue wormed her way through the crowd to stand behind Gambit. There were two beers and two shots waiting already, and she reached over his shoulder without even bothering to ask which one was hers.

"Hey, girl! What happened, you fall in?" he joked.

"I got better ways a' drownin', sugar," she said, tapping the neck of her bottle against his in salute before knocking the contents back like a college kid at a frat party. The bartender smiled kindly at her and promptly popped the lid off of another beer.

Gambit's eyebrows shot up comically as watched Rogue down the shot and start on the second beer in the same manner as the first. "I was jus' telling Miss Lisa here dat we're undercover superheroes. Apparently she's Iron Man's biggest fan."

Rogue choked on her drink, spluttering, "Y'all did _what_?!"

Lisa laughed and made a dismissive gesture with the bottle opener as she moved away to fill an order for some rowdy men at the end of the counter. "I just think Mr. Stark is ridiculously sexy, that's all. Your friend doesn't seem to think so, though- he thinks _you_ two would make better Avengers!"

"Ah think don't think this 'un here would- he prob'ly belongs in jail somewhere," Rogue called out humorously. She had given up tempering her accent.

Gambit leaned his head back until it was upside down against her chest and favored her with a knowing wink. His ponytail hadn't held up to the quick directional changes of dancing, and his chin length hair spread out across her collarbones like a soft brown scarf. Grinning, he said, "You wouldn' have left me there long."

The hardness in her eyes threw him off as she coldly replied, "I might have if'n ya deserved it. But Ah reckon getting shot in the head was punishment enough… this time."

It was an incredibly cruel statement, and Gambit quickly pulled away from her, stung. When the Avengers and Mi13 had shown up to rescue him after his prison infiltration went awry, Borla Cich had shot him point blank between the eyes with a purloined Glock. It was only because of the amazing, instant healing ability of one of the British team's members that he was still breathing. Before everything went black, the last thing he'd seen was Rogue screaming, her pretty features twisted in absolute horror. The darkness had only lasted for a few seconds, and he'd woken with a splitting headache to find himself clutched tightly in her desperate grip, her grateful tears raining onto his face. For her to imply now that he'd deserved it hurt him to his core. +

Without looking back, he hunched his shoulders and spat, "So what's _your_ punishment for today going t' be, I wonder?"

"_**Ah**_ didn't do anything wrong. The only thing Ah'm regrettin' ish not lettin' that nutball finish the job," she replied, a barbed edge knifing through her slurred words. Downing the other half of her beer, she set it back on the bar in front of him with a resounding thud.

Two men to her right looked up, trying not to be obvious about their interest in the conversation even though their furtive glances and halting speech exposed their nosy intentions. Rogue noticed, but thanks to the alcohol that was quickly overriding her sense of judgment, she just didn't care. It was becoming increasingly difficult to vocalize her thoughts clearly now that her circulatory system had calmed down from the rigors of dancing. The numbness was a welcome change.

"So if I piss you off, you gon' kill me too?" Gambit said acerbically, trying to speak more quietly. His subconscious was nagging him that this conversation would be far safer in private.

"You treat me like one a' ya floozies again an' maybe Ah will!" Rogue's tone was still several octaves too loud as she glared at his disgruntled reflection in the mirror that lined the back of the bottle racks. +

Although he looked like he wanted to smile at her acknowledgment of his sneaky attempt at a smooch, he was still smarting from her comment about just desserts. She wondered why he loved to physically irritate her so much, even though she had told him time and time again how she hated being subjected to the same carelessly casual treatment that he used on any woman that piqued his interest. _Women, hell. He'd probably use the same cheesy pick-up act on a broom if it meant he'd get laid._

"You wanted t' kiss me jus' as bad as I did you. I don' regret trying."

"Seems ta me you don't regret a whole lotta things that ya should. Ah dun' recall you showin' any remorsh over turnin' Cich into a Molotov cocktail, _buddy_," she sniped, the endearment rolling sarcastically off her tongue.

"Dat was as much of an accident as what you did, and you know it," he stated flatly, his eyes narrowing while he took a swig of his drink.

_We're like peas in a damned pod, _he groused as she looked away, conceding to his point. When he'd retaliated at Cich by spitting a kinetically charged bullet at the fat bastard's head, he hadn't expected it to blow up like a pound of C4. For weeks after Lady Faiza had used her crazy sword voodoo to bring him back to life, it had been difficult to rein in his mutant power. He _had_ felt guilty about the accidental detonation. Trying to convince his ex that he was more concerned about the direction of her moral compass than the fact she'd accidentally killed again was rapidly ruining his happy beer buzz.

Swaying in place as people pushed and shoved past her to get to the bar, Rogue stuck her lower lip out and crossed her arms. Everything was starting to look blurry and she longed to go back to dancing and laughing but the dance floor had already been cleared. "Why are you sho determined ta make me feel bad today?"

"I'm making _YOU_ feel bad?! Ha! I thought we were having fun but you so determined t' start a fight dat I'm wondering why I bother trying to cheer you up in the first place. Hey, there y' go- Dat's something I'm starting t' _regret._"

As Rogue glowered at him from under the brim of her hat, his reflected gaze slid over to the busybodies (who suddenly pretended a keen interest in their beers), and then back to her. It was an oblique warning to watch her mouth. The tension was abruptly broken by the return of the bartender, who calmly parked another bottle next to Gambit's and deliberately inserted herself into their conversation.

"So many happy faces down here!" Lisa proclaimed with forced friendliness as she wiped down the counter. It didn't take a psychiatrist to spot the anger building between the two strangers.

A seasoned veteran of tending bar, she was an expert at stopping fights before they could get out of control. Far too many couples had come for a drink and ended up turning the place into a live Jerry Springer episode. This odd pair, however, struck her as two caring souls who just happened to be stuck in a very deep rut. The brunette's grouchy demeanor fascinated her in particular; she noted that although the lady seemed bent on upsetting her dark-eyed companion, there was a pained sadness about her as she did so. Lisa didn't think that they'd actually come to blows, but her intuition had been wrong before. She preferred to err on the side of caution, especially since two of the most obnoxious regulars had taken up residence next to the couple. Both of the meddlers were underpaid, ignorant mechanics who worked at the small garage on the edge of town and were known for instigating unrest- mostly with famous entertainers. She knew firsthand that they had once received a generous check to silence them from talking to the media after they provoked a well-respected singer into a fist fight.

Addressing Rogue, she politely asked, "So, what do you guys do for a living?"

The shorter of the two troublemakers, a stout, barrel-chested man with a ruddy complexion, turned an inquisitive ear towards their conversation even as he pretended to laugh at something his friend said.

"Art an' antiques collectin'," Gambit shrugged casually.

"Trash disposal," Rogue stated matter-of-factly. She maintained her deadpan expression as Gambit softly smacked his hand over his forehead.

The squat fellow piped up before the bartender could comment. "Man, how does a pretty little thing like you end up with a shitty job like that?"

Lisa glared at him like she wished his mouth would suddenly seal itself shut, then glanced at the sulking stranger to see if he was going to object to the overt flirtation. Instead, Gambit merely acquiesced with a half-smile and rolled his eyes. She was mildly surprised at his laid-back acceptance; from the caring way that he had spoken of his lady friend, she'd assumed that they were dating.

Rogue had turned to face the man with a sweetly vacuous expression, one that the Cajun had witnessed whenever she was toying with a victim who didn't know about her mutant abilities. "Well somebody's gotta take out the rubbish, don' they?"

Smirking, Lisa gestured at the pair of idiots. "Well, isn't that a blessing! It just so happens that we've got some trash right here that you could get rid of!"

"I see Lisa's got it out for us still," the taller man said, nudging his friend's shoulder and shooting a look of contempt at the bartender. "If this little missy knew what a freak you are, she'd probably chuck _your_ old ass into the back of the garbage truck."

"Now that ain't very nice," Rogue interjected with a hint of warning in her tone, "Ya shouldn't say such things ta ladies."

Lisa had visibly flinched at the 'freak' slur and all of a sudden the cynical attitude went out of her as if she were a deflated balloon. Weakly, she said, "Ha. Manners are wasted on the likes of them."

"Aww, don't be like that, 'Leese'! Spocky probably just inhaled too much exhaust from that diesel we worked on today," the shorter man complained, nudging his empty glass towards her. She grudgingly set about refilling it. Turning to Rogue, he offered his hand and said, "I do too have manners. I'm Kenny and this is Spokowski. Or 'Spocky', as it were." +

It took a sizeable amount of control not to break the creep's fingers as she briefly grasped his hand. Covering her repulsion with humor, she said, "Ah'm surprised ya don't go by 'Captain Kirk'."

Her ex nearly snorted his drink through his nose and muttered under his breath, "If you'd have said 'Captain Picard', I'd have t' spank y' for the insult."

Lisa chuckled as Rogue meanly bopped the back of his skull in remonstration and stated, "Kirk's better and ya know it."

Spockowski did not look amused, but Kenny's face nearly split in half from his buck toothed grin. He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and leered at Rogue. "You can call me whatever you want, honey. I like it weird, don't I, Lisa?"

The bartender abruptly turned heel and tramped away to the furthest point of the bar counter without another word. Gambit scrutinized her departing back with interest, paying heed to the faintly visible lumps under her long sleeved shirt that he hadn't noticed before. Rogue watched her too, and turned back to the ignorant men.

"She's a terrible bartender, always being mean to paying customers like us," the shorter man explained rudely as his scrawny companion reached over the bar for another beer.

"Sheems ta me like y'all probably deserve it," Rogue sniffed disdainfully.

"She's a mutie. I saw her changing in the backroom once, she had all kinds of weird, diamond-looking things growing outta her hide. I'm amazed the owner hasn't fired her yet," Spokowski snorted.

Looking down to find that Gambit had covertly slid his hand behind him and was squeezing her knee in warning, Rogue shoved his fingers away. She addressed the moron squad in a tone that came across much more viciously than she had planned. "Whassamatta, ya don' like mutants?"

Surprised at the vehemence in her voice, Spokowski raised an eyebrow and sneered, "No, I don't. They act like they're better than human beings, but all I ever see them do is destroy everything they touch. They shoulda stayed on that island off of California. Maybe then they'd kill all the hippies out there and actually do the world a favor."

"Ah'm pretty sure some'a those 'muties' have saved the world a time or two, not that anyone is ever grateful for their sacrifices," Rogue dissented, her irises blazing peridot green fire.

Kenny had been studying Rogue's angry face as his pal spoke. Realization dawned in his squinty eyes and he suddenly seemed to shrink in size, making himself appear even shorter. He pointed a shaky finger at her and stuttered, "Y-y-you were o-on TV today…Y-you killed that freaky guy in t-the weird hat! You're one of _THEM_…!"

.

_Hi, all! Sorry for the super long delay- this chapter was unbelievably difficult to write and it took me a looooong time to get it down pat. Even now, I'm not sure I like it- so it may change again over time. For now, please let me know what you think _

_+1) Random Spasticat facts: It seriously took me an hour of watching the 'fake id' video on repeat and a mason jar of apple pie 'shine to write this damned paragraph. No joke. _

_Blackjack is the name of my beloved Explorer, which was partly inspired by Gambit's love of card games._

_+2) X-Men Legacy #272, 273. Yes, she really took on not one but TWO armies, and brought peace to an entire alien planet. I couldn't help thinking of the setting of __John Carter.__ Mmm, Taylor Kitsch. ;)_

_+3) Gambit #17. Did NOT see that one coming when I first read it, and it scared the crap outta me that he could die as easily as your average person. Seriously, how often does that happen with the X-Men?!_

_+4) In Uncanny Avengers #6, Wanda referred to her as "one of her father's floozies". Sometimes being called a hurtful word sticks in your head._

_+5) Based on real-life local idiots. Never piss off a writer, mwahaha!_


	6. Chapter 6

She hesitated for only the briefest of seconds before instinctively reaching out to seize the blubbering fool's florid cheek. Kenny's eyelids fluttered and he toppled forward, falling off of his stool to crash face first onto the sticky hardwood floor. Rogue made no move to catch him- she couldn't see anything through the haze of disjointed memories that assaulted her mind. Gambit and Spokowski jumped to their feet at the same time, the latter calling out his fallen friend's name in shock. It happened so fast that the regulars would talk about it in wonder for months to come: the scraggly mechanic made a fist and started to swing on Rogue, but ended up sprawled out next to Kenny with a broken nose. The tall stranger's lightning fast left hook had been a blur of tan Louisiana skin.

"Aaaannd we're done here..!" Gambit said, firmly grasping Rogue's shoulder before she could do more damage. He was in shock as well, perplexed by his normally levelheaded ex's unorthodox method of handling the situation.

In a distinctly deeper voice that was laced with a New York City accent, she rounded on him and shouted, "Don't touch me, you freak!"

Had he been anyone else, he might have been startled at the change in Rogue's face. Her skin was mottled with patchy red blotches and her eyes had turned a nondescript shade of brown. However, he wasn't any other man, and he'd been through this scenario enough times to know that the after effect would only last a few minutes since she had barely made contact.

"Get a grip, Anna- we got to _go_!" he whispered warningly, sparing a glance towards the men at the end of the bar. Several of them had put down their drinks and stood up menacingly, concerned for the brunette who had jammed the heels of her hands into her eyes and appeared to be groaning in pain.

Now that she had control of her power, it was rare to knock enemies out cold unless she absolutely had to. She despised sharing mental real estate when it was so much more pleasant to siphon off a little bit of power and maybe a memory or two. Having to deal with mutinous psyches trying to take over her mind often caused a minor headache, but alcohol apparently had a tendency to skew the results and make them more painful.

Spocky was rolling around the floor, clutching his bloody face and screaming obscenities as Lisa charged up to their end of the bar and demanded to know what happened.

Thinking fast, Gambit offered an apologetic smile and deliberately spoke loud enough for the advancing men to hear. "Homme here was gettin' too touchy-feely, an' his friend overreacted when she said 'no'."

"Monsters…!" Rogue said in a low tone, peeping out from between her fingers at him.

"Beg pardon, fille?"

"They're **monsters**!" she all but shouted, clenching her fists and staring in horror at the prone bodies by her feet. Shivering as if she were cold, she fought internally to quell the twisted memories that made her want to beat the scum within an inch of their lives.

The bouncer, a burly dark skinned man that reminded her of Bishop, had made his way through the curious onlookers and was about to reach for Rogue; however, he hesitated upon seeing the expression of absolute revulsion on her face. Sickening visions were swirling around her mind, glimpses of unspeakable crimes that had been near the surface of Kenny's memories when she had touched him.

"This un' is a pedophile!" She yelled, pointing at Spokowski, who was glaring at her through rapidly swelling eyes, "And that un' raped a teenager last year! It's all on his computer, _the sick bastard actually_ _took pictures for his_ _buddy_!"

Aside from the music that was still blaring over the speaker system, what was left of the late night crowd fell silent. Feeling everyone staring at him, Spokowski reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black object.

"Shut your mouth, you #*%ing mutie!" he shrieked desperately, pointing the gun at Rogue's head.

Many things happened at once: Most everyone in the bar either hit the deck or ran for the door, the woman closest to them screamed, the bouncer lashed out with his foot, Rogue twisted backwards when she saw Spokowski's finger squeeze the trigger, and Gambit dropped to one knee as he grabbed the madman's wrist. With a disgusted snarl on his face, he used his other hand to chop the outstretched arm at the elbow, snapping the bones with a sickening crunch. Whether the man felt it before the bouncer's kick knocked him out was debatable, but he'd certainly feel it when he awoke.

Gambit looked up at woman who meant more to him than his own life and heaved a sigh of relief. Holding a quivering hand to her bangs, Rogue stared back down at him. The .380 round had blown through the bill of the baseball cap and knocked it from her head, narrowly missing her skull. If the situation hadn't been so serious, he would have laughed at her obviously confused expression; she couldn't figure out why Kenny's thoughts hadn't revealed that his friend was carrying an illegally concealed weapon. Before she could do anything more than glance around at the chaotic mess left behind by the panicked customers, he aimed for her knees and sprinted forward, hoisting her up and over his left shoulder.

Ignoring her surprised holler, he slapped a number of large bills on the counter and then leaned over it to address Lisa in her hiding place. "I'm sorry, Madame."

"M' girl here is a lotta things, but she ain't a liar. If she says it happened, it did. Much as I'd like to see this," Gambit grimaced as he gestured at the downed deviants, "déchets sans valeur (worthless scum) get what's comin' to them, we can't stick around and we can't leave any hard evidence."

Plucking a damp coaster from the countertop, he flipped it around his fingertips. The hard fibrous material sparkled at first as he imbued it with a small charge, and then began to glow, emitting a vibrant fuschia light. It took a moment for Rogue's beer-addled mind to process his intentions, but when she realized that he wasn't going to let them stay and handle things properly she immediately began to struggle against his shoulder.

He clamped his free hand on her rear end and squeezed hard.

As he knew it would, the inappropriate action had the desired effect of momentarily stilling the ferocious pounding of her fists against his spine, giving him a precious window of time with which he steadied his aim. He'd deliberately crossed one of her boundaries and would deal with the repercussions later; right now it was imperative to evacuate as quickly and cleanly as possible. Gambit flicked the thick paper square expertly into a gap in the paneling below the main register and watched with satisfaction as the small explosion wiped out the surveillance DVR recorder without blowing the doors off of the hidden cabinet.

As he turned towards the back of the restaurant, the hulking black man held up his hand to block him and rumbled in a deep baritone, "You're not as sorry as I'm going to be if I let you guys leave. Especially after that stunt, because now I'm positive you guys are already wanted by the authorities. I definitely know _she_ is: That white streak is pretty memorable after you've seen it on TV all day."

Gambit's mind raced for a suitable excuse but his cargo blurted out, "Damnit, Cajun! Put me down! The Avengers already got that shit sorted out – Ah ain't goin' nowhere 'til these dirtbags ish locked up!"

It was exactly the 'tell' that he had been trying to avoid, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger out of pure exasperation. Rogue could be as much of a wild card as himself sometimes, although tonight her puzzling behavior was completely lacking in the self-preservation department. Thankfully most of the patrons had fled for the front door, so the only ones within earshot were the bartender, the bouncer and the two limp men on the floor. Lisa, whose head was the only part of her visible above bar, gaped in astonishment at the divulgence of Rogue's true occupation.

"I swear on m' poor brother's soul, fille- _I am gon' duct tape your mouth shut one of these days_," he growled angrily, jostling her into silence. To the bouncer, he pleaded, "Look, after all she's been through t'day the last thing she needs is to be on the news again. She's drunk and jus' tryin' to do the right thing. You seem like a good man and I don' want to fight you. But if you insist on detainin' us, I will."

"Are you #$%ing serious?! Don't ya DARE make excuses f' me!" Rogue cursed. She somehow managed to twist upwards enough to snag a half full draft glass from the bar and launched it at Kenny's inert form. The man had just stirred, about to wake up…that is, until the glass shattered against his head and pelted him into unconsciousness once again. Gambit quickly swung her away from the counter before she could get her paws on any other weapons and favored the dumbfounded guard with a beseeching look.

Piping up from behind him, Lisa said, "It's all right, Derek; let them go. We can come up with something before the cops get here. They're like me."

Derek shot a meaningful glance at his bartending friend. His hand wavered and fell. Gruffly, he stated to Gambit, "I'll take care of these two morons. I knew they were bad eggs, but this...they're going to have a lot to answer for. Get out and don't come back. If I ever see either of you in here again, I'll arrest you myself- no matter what superhero club you belong to."

Loosely saluting the pair of them, Gambit spun around and jetted for freedom. Lisa called out a thank you at his departing form as he raced towards the back of the building.

"Remy LeBeau, you bettah put me down right now or sho help me…!" Rogue screeched after he had shoved past the steel emergency door.

"SHHH! Y' already got us in enough trouble as it is!" He hissed savagely, ducking through the shadows as he crept along the back of the building. The rush of hot, humid air was a welcome shock from the cool, stale interior of the bar and he inhaled deeply, grateful that she'd had enough common sense not to call him by name in front of any witnesses.

"Ah had it under control!" she said, disoriented by the dizzying motion of his heels as they flashed in and out of her range of vision.

"Not gon' say it again, Rogue. **BE. QUIET."**

She wriggled against his unyielding grip on her ass, bouncing helplessly against his back while he darted around parked cars and navigated a labyrinth of trash bins. Already furious that the Cajun hadn't let her stay behind and make sure the two sick bastards were properly processed by the authorities, being told what to do by 'Captain Coward' was like throwing gasoline on a bonfire. Steadying herself by digging her thumbs under his belt and gripping his slim hips, she chomped down on the muscle beneath his shoulder blade.

With a surprised yelp, Gambit's step faltered as his back reflexively went ramrod straight. Although he had an incredibly high tolerance for pain, born from years of torture at the hands of various villains, it was nearly unbearable when he wasn't expecting it. Turning his face into her thigh, he retaliated by biting through her jeans and sinking his fingernails into her buttocks. Unfortunately, it only made her bite even harder. He staggered as he rounded the corner onto a one way street and released her onto the concrete sidewalk, where she dropped into a rumpled bundle of indignation.

"You do _not_ tell me what ta do, buster! Now or _ever_!" she growled as she lurched unsteadily to her feet. Her upper leg smarted, and she rubbed at it to ease the sting.

He was trying to do the same to his back, his arm bent at an awkward angle to reach the sensitive bruise. Pulling her into the darkness of a handicap ramp alcove along the building as the wail of police sirens grew closer, he demanded grouchily, "What the HELL, Anna?!"

"We got no way of knowin' that them bastards are gonna pay for what they did, and thanks ta you we don't have any proof that it happened at all! Jus' because you're afraid of getting arreshted again doesn't mean Ah am! A month ago Ah blew a hole in the Chrysler Building with Black Widow's rifle and d'ya know what happened? _Nothing_!" she seethed, leaning against the brick wall for support. +

"You can't seriously think dat bein' an Avenger means you have a get-outta-jail-free card!" he exclaimed. His expression was incredulous and more than a little hurt that she so vehemently doubted his judgment call.

"That's _exactly_ what it is! They trust me ta make the right calls and do what has ta be done, that's why Ah'm a part of the team and you _aren't_!"

For the second time that evening, Gambit had the urge to walk away without saying another word and leave her to her own inebriated devices. Aggravated beyond his tolerance level, he flung his hands out, palms up, and appealed to the sky as if to say _Dieu, grant me strength to deal wit' this impossible woman…!_

On some deep and personal level, she felt vindicated to see that her words had penetrated his nonchalant attitude. He had hurt her so much, for so long, that the urge to make him feel the same rejection had bubbled through the alcohol induced haze. THere used to be a time that she would have broken down at his stricken expresion, but she was no longer the naïve, desperate-for-romance fool that she'd been before he showed up at the X-Men's door.

"What if the cops 'round here have the same view on mutants dat half the planet does? It'd be real easy for them to come up with an excuse to 'deal' with a mutie troublemaker. And you know damn well dat the courts are always skewed to the _poor innocent human's_ side of the story –who knows what they'd do to you, but they'd prob'ly get away wit' it!"

"So ya don't think Ah can handle mahshelf anymore, is that it? Ah get by _just fine_ without you, Ah always have an' Ah always will!"

That did it.

Stepping so close that their noses touched, he snarled, "You really, REALLY think y' beloved Avengers are goin' to bail you outta some Podunk jail in the middle a' the night after you went an' assaulted a man? A _ human_ man? Logan's told me how they're sick a' your shit, and yet you really think you can boss them around and get away with murder?!"

Blinded by bitterness, he realized his mistake in using the ubiquitous cliché too late. Rogue stilled instantly, a pale stone statue partly illuminated by the copper light of the streetlamps. She started to shake with the effort of restraining herself and stared balefully at him. Seeing that he'd hurt her caused tightness in his throat, yet it was not enough to stop the resentful storm of feelings that her attitude had provoked. He stepped back to put a decent sized space between them and soldiered on, ignoring the police cars that could be heard screeching to a halt less than a block away.

"D'you ever _think_ about the consequences of y' actions anymore?" He asked in a more level tone."D'you even _care_ what kinda position you put me in tonight?"

"Now that's the pot callin' the kettle black if ever Ah heard it! How many times have ya done somethin' reckless and left me ta clean up _your_ mess?!" she cried, her cheeks flushing a frustrated red as she advanced on him and stood on tiptoe to yell in his face. "How many times have ya shtupid decisions wrecked mah life, Remy!?" +

His proud shoulders sagged and he looked away from her, defeated. She'd hit him right where he was the most vulnerable; calling up all the guilt he could never quite shake, locked away just under his seemingly carefree surface. There were almost too many incidents to recall. BellaDonna, his part in the Morlock Massacre and how the memories of it had nearly wrecked her, Mary Purcell- the green ghost who'd kept them apart, the New Son incident, Mystique tempting him disguised as Foxx, joining Apocolypse as the horseman Death… they were always at the back of his mind, threatening to drag him down into depression if he lingered on them too long. But Rogue had never called him out on any of it- until now. She'd always tolerated the repercussions of his decisions because of how hard he had thrown himself into fixing his screw ups and earning redemption. Like a fool, he'd let himself believe that although his many transgressions weren't forgotten, she'd at least forgiven him. +

Swallowing hard, he said quietly, "This ain't 'bout tonight anymore. And this ain't somethin' to be discussing right now."

Rogue closed her eyes to keep him from seeing the wetness that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

"Take me home," she said firmly, in a tone that was devoid of emotion.

.

_*Imitates Mortal Kombat* FIGHT!_

_So... freaking...tired...! Thank you all for the patience and amazingly supportive comments while I was struggling to write this chapter- it really does mean the world to me. I hate hate HATE seeing them fight in the books, and it was really difficult to portray it in the story as well :( Don't worry though, it'll get somewhat better soon, although the release of the preview cover art for X-Factor #9 today has me reconsidering the ending to this story. Dang you and your continuity, Marvel!_

_+1) A + X #2 again. I wonder who pays for that kind of damage...?  
_

_+2) LOTS. I had to think long and hard on how many times Rogue screwed him over, besides dating Magneto, and I couldn't come up with squat! She has always waited for him to come around and explain himself, even letting it affect her core personality. for example, when he took off to become death: She reverted to her old brotherhood costume and started being sarcastic and reckless, although her leadership abilities outweighed the dangers she put her team through. Even right up until Gambit #17, she was still letting his poor decisions slide and making excuses for him. Small wonder then, that she was continuously reticent about getting back into a relationship. If you remember something I don't, please leave me a comment!  
_

_+3) You're not really gonna make me look all these up, are you? It's like, every other comic that Gambit's been in since X-Men #8! There are a whole bunch of his fawk ups that I left out because some figure into later chapters *coughcoughJoellecoughcough*_

_One more little edit: I'm often inspired by songs as I write. If you want to picture the look on Gambit's and Rogue's faces as she's laying into him about ''wrecking her life'', watch the duet part of Gotye's 'Somebody That I Used to Know'.  
_


	7. Chapter 7

Gambit jogged towards the intersection while Rogue stumbled along behind him, steadying herself by trailing one dainty hand along the aluminum siding of the tiny diner at the end of the street. Oblivious to the late night chowhounds, she didn't even try to duck down or look away as she crossed in front of the large windows, earning her a dirty look from the impatient Cajun. Peeking casually around the corner, he took note of two police cars and the small crowd of people milling about in front of the restaurant. He wondered what kind of lie the bartender and bouncer had coughed up, and fervently hoped that they wouldn't get in _too _much trouble for being good Samaritans. Luckily, it appeared that that the cops had yet to begin a search pattern. Diagonally across the street from his hiding spot was a church alleyway that led to the parking lot where the motorcycle was hidden, and as he waited for his date to catch up he considered the odds of making it across without being seen.

Glancing back over his shoulder when she was finally close enough to hear him, he said in an unusually cruel tone, "We're gon' have to make a run for it…You're not gon' do anythin' stupid, like fall over or run back to the police, are you?"

Rogue hunched over at the waist with her hands on her kneecaps, her face obscured by her long, wavy hair. She made a limp wristed gesture of dismissal at his skeptical expression.

"Jus' shay when."

"_Bien_. Ready? Set..." He waited for the traffic light to turn green, figuring that crossing on a red might give the odd passing car too much opportunity to study two fugitives sneaking across the street, "GO!"

Surprisingly, she stayed mostly upright as they froggered their way to the safety of the alley, their fleeing forms quickly disappearing into the darkness. Rogue squinted, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the lack of light…and promptly plowed into Gambit as he skidded to an unannounced stop. He was more tipsy than he'd let on, and though his knees buckled from unexpected extra weight he still twisted in midair so that she wouldn't hit the ground first, grunting painfully as his back slammed into the gravel. Embarrassed, Rogue was about to snap out a mean comment when she realized why he'd stopped so suddenly: Slowly crawling down the street beyond the parking lot was a third police cruiser. Gambit curled protectively around her, clutching her head to his chest and rolling towards the wall just as a spotlight illuminated the space they had occupied a split second earlier. For what seemed like an eternity, they lay tangled in each other's arms, afraid to breathe and afraid to move, until the glaringly bright light finally moved on. Rogue cautiously lifted her head to confirm that the officer was truly gone, and drew back to look down at her disheveled rescuer. She inhaled sharply, confused by the way his furious expression conflicted with the gentle embrace that held her so tenderly. Ringed by red fire, his pupils glowed golden as they reflected the distant lamplight like cat's eyes in the dark, making him appear as though he were a vengeful demon straight from Dante's Inferno. Sometimes it was easy to see why so many people in his hometown referred to him as _Le Diable Blanc. _+

"Remy... Ah'm sor-," she tried to speak, but he cut off the apology with a shake of his head and roughly shoved her away.

"Save it, Rogue. You do this same shit every time. Get drunk, start a fight and kiss ass after. Only this time calling names wasn' enough, y' had to start wit' the personal stuff. I don't know what your problem is, but I ain't your whipping boy."

She knelt next to him, brushing off the pebbles that clung to her skin, and grumbled, "Fine, don't accept mah 'pology, ya melodramatic jackass. Nobody asked ya ta get involved."

Fighting the urge to yell, he wisely kept his voice down low as he rolled into a crouch and stuck an accusing finger in her face. "YES YOU DID! The minute you sent dat text message you _knew _I wouldn' say no!"

Standing up shakily, she put her hands on her hips and glowered defiantly at him. "Bullshit! Ya haven't talked ta me for weeks! Even so, it ain't like Ah twishted ya arm and _made _you say yes!"

Fuming, Gambit turned his back to her and inspected the parking lot. "What the hell kinda friend would I be if I didn't?! You were finally, _finally_ making progress wit' figuring out who you wanted to be, what you want from life...then suddenly y' went right back to being a hateful bitch who alienates anyone dat tries to help. I don't know what happened, but you need to let dat negative crap go before you turn into Logan!"

Rogue abruptly stomped past him into the deserted parking lot, ignoring his startled hiss as she cut a beeline towards the silhouette of the motorcycle. Her attitude clearly stated that she was done with the conversation and was leaving with or without him. In the span of a few heartbeats, he had jogged past her and leapt onto his seat, knocking the kickstand back and popping the transmission into neutral with a barely audible click. She calmly dug her hoodie out of the saddlebag and pulled it on as she slipped behind him, yanking the hood down over her forehead and tugging her gloves over her fingers. Gambit hunched low over the handlebars and pushed the heavy machine forward with a few powerful thrusts of his legs, waiting to start the engine until they'd rolled far enough away that it wouldn't draw any undue attention. He idled along the darkened residential streets, only goosing the throttle enough to maintain forward momentum until the main highway came into view. Once he felt they were clear of danger, the Harley's engine roared and the speedometer quickly climbed into no-man's land.

He sped along recklessly at twice the speed limit, ripping around startled motorists on the four lane highway, until common sense overrode his anger and reminded him of the numerous speed traps lurking just out of sight. Rogue sat as far back on the seat as she could, holding on to the hem of his jacket with only the most perfunctory grip necessary to keep her balance. It had been far more pleasant to feel her arms around him on the ride out to the lighthouse, and he sighed inwardly at how quickly their evening had delved into disaster. He hadn't meant to hold her so closely in the alleyway, but the feeling had been so _right_ that it nearly negated the hurtful things she'd said. The way her grateful little smile had turned into a crestfallen frown when he'd pushed her away kept prickling relentlessly at his thoughts. Her disturbing behavior was bothering him to no end, and drunk or not, they were going to have it out once and for all.

As they neared the exit for Wantaugh State parkway, he impulsively took the turn south towards the beach. Not surprisingly, Rogue stiffened and knuckled him in the side when they slowed down for the curve of the exit ramp. +

"Where are ya goin'?!" she hollered over the wind.

"We need t' talk!" he shouted back, and then gunned the engine to drown out her heated response.

_Great. This is gonna be World War III, _Rogue sulked as she went back to staring at headlights in the rearview mirror. It was better to concentrate on them than the back of his head, which had become an awfully tempting target. Curiously, she realized the headlights were the same ones that had been behind them no matter which lane they'd occupied on the Long Island Expressway. After watching for a bit longer, she tugged urgently on Gambit's sleeve and reached over his right arm to point warningly at the mirror. Concentrating intently on the road, he had become so engrossed in the things he wanted to say to her that he hadn't noticed that they were being followed.

_You're slipping, LeBeau! See what happens when you let her get to you?!_ He mentally kicked himself.

Without warning, he switched to the empty fast lane to see if the SUV would follow. Grumbling when it did, he eased off the throttle and yelled, "Anyone you recognize?"

In the mirror, her reflection shook its head: No.

The mystery pursuers must have realized that they had finally been spotted now that the late night traffic had thinned out, because something that suspiciously resembled a neon green tranquilizer dart suddenly whizzed past Rogue's left knee.

Immediately taking evasive action, the Cajun swerved hard right and twisted the throttle all the way open. Rogue latched on to his jeans and buried her nose between his shoulder blades when the Harley shot forward, putting several car lengths between them and their attackers in a matter of seconds. The SUV struggled to close the gap, its engine whining from the effort. Dimly lit shrubs and grass quickly blurred into black, swampy marshes as they crossed onto the first island that led towards Jones Beach, the headlights persistently remaining in the rearview. On the second island, however, Gambit had to slow down to avoid crashing through the empty toll booth gates. Before he could speed up again, a high pitched whistling sound made both X-Men jerk their heads around in alarm. The smoking projectile arced over them, exploding in front the bike with the force of a small bomb and blasting chunks of old pavement twenty feet into the air.

The motorcycle's tires squealed in protest as it slid around the flaming crater, narrowly avoiding the fallout of debris. Gambit dug into his pocket and held a pack of playing cards over his shoulder, lightly whacking Rogue's cheek with the cardboard box as he steered with his other hand.

"I can't get a clear shot wit' you in the way, you gotta take them out!"

She immediately recoiled at the unspoken demand to absorb his powers. The alcohol had already skewed the results once that evening, and she couldn't be sure that he would be able to block his memories sufficiently to let her absorb only his mutant ability. Just the notion of his angry thoughts running rampant around her head in the midst of a fight was enough to make her scoot back even further on the seat.

"NO! Just gun it, ya almost lost them before an' ya can do it again!"

"We're about to run outta road here, and in case y' hadn't noticed: _**They shootin' RPG's at us**_!"

As if on cue, a second grenade landed just off the shoulder to the left, showering them with pebbles and bits of broken shrubbery as Gambit instinctively swerved away from the blast.

"Goddamnit woman, do it!" he cried, offering the pack again after he had stabilized the wobbly bike. They were rapidly approaching a drawbridge, and there would be no escaping if their pursuers blew it out from under them.

Swearing under her breath, she ripped the glove off of her right hand with her teeth and firmly clasped his outstretched fingers, sandwiching the cards between their palms. Gambit gasped as Rogue's leeching ability pulled far harder than necessary, his mind scrambling to remember random thoughts as fast as possible. The last thing he needed was for her to take anything important or worse, any memories that could be used against him. The back of his neck started to pale and his grip on the throttle loosened, causing the Harley to slow dangerously.

As she released him she couldn't help smiling wickedly at the kinetic charging ability that surged through her veins in a delightful current. Her fingertips tingled, more so once she had ripped open the package and coaxed the molecules of the cards into a vibrating frenzy. Closing her eyes against the wave of memories that flashed across the backs of her eyelids, when she opened them again the velvety black landscape around them didn't seem as dark anymore; it was almost as if she were wearing night vision goggles.

Half-turning in place, Rogue quickly scanned the distance between their tail light and the front of the SUV. A grossly misshapen figure was crammed awkwardly through the sunroof, leveling his weapon for another shot; She spat out an expletive as she recognized M'Zee, the Red Skull's turtle-shaped heavy hitter. A glowing trio of Aces flew from her fingers while the bike roared across the bridge, exploding in rapid succession against the grille of the Suburban and shattering the windshield as well as blowing out the left front tire. Clouds of white steam billowed up from the mangled hood and the bare rim sent up a rooster tail of sparks as the driver struggled to stay on the road. +

"I take it y' know who they are now?" Gambit said, slowing down to a sedate 15 mph so she could hear him. Something about her tone when she'd cursed made him think that their adversaries were tougher than the usual hired thugs and probably shouldn't be allowed to roam free.

"Skull's goons," she answered simply, leaning back and watching the disabled SUV steadily draw closer, its engine knocking and sputtering. The outline of the reptilian hitman had disappeared from the roof but she doubted M'Zee would able to aim through the hazy fog of coolant.

"Gonna call your '_buddies_' to round 'em up?" he asked as he glanced at her, the hint of sarcasm in his tone making her turn back around to face him. Although Rogue had absorbed him more times than anyone else over the years, he still flinched uncontrollably when he saw his own lava colored eyes staring back from her pretty face.

"No, actually. Stop up there by dem buildings inna middle a' the road," she sneered in a mix of Yat and Mississippi accents, patting his shoulder condescendingly. "_Some_body implied dat Ah cain't handle mahself and dat Ah need a new _punchin' bag_."

"Oh for the love of…!" he said with a snort. "I didn' say it like dat!"

"Whatevah, crétin. Ah owe dese idjits a beatin' for kidnaping me anyway," she bared her teeth ferally, a frightful mockery of a smile that reminded him very much of Mystique. "Y'all ain't de only one who been shot in dis past month." +

Twisting around once more, she flung a pair of charged cards at the truck's under body. The concussive detonations lifted the tires from the ground as if the Skull's crew had driven over a land mine and three tons of Detroit steel cartwheeled into the median, sliding to a stop on its roof just past the turnaround lane. A hundred feet away, Gambit cut across the center of the road, the motorcycle bobbing across the sandy grass until he stopped by the empty maintenance building.

Normally, he would have argued more with her, but deep down he knew that most effective way for his best friend to burn out her fiery temper would always involve some form of gratuitous violence. Besides, whatever problem was eating away at her could probably benefit from administering some long overdue ass kicking. Rogue slipped off the seat and marched right at the wrecked SUV, focusing intently on the stumbling bodies that poured out of it in clown-car fashion. The first two soldiers to get their bearings straightened out immediately opened fire with their strange looking guns.

"Go get 'em, chere!" Gambit called out with an entertained chuckle, shrugging out of his jacket and leaning back on his bike to watch the show. He crossed his arms over his chest and admired the graceful way she used his Savate moves to evade the tranquilizer darts, spinning and sliding around them until she'd breeched the henchmen's defenses. No longer the stumbling drunk that had knocked him down in the alley, he suspected that she had let his psyche take over her muscle functions while she vicariously enjoyed the damage that it caused.

"Don' you '_chere_' me, asshole!" she shouted as she punched a maroon-clad assailant in the face and used the man's own arm to gun down a bizarre looking creature that was crawling out of the driver's window. The goat-faced thing slumped unceremoniously to the ground, sprouting plastic feathered darts like a nightmarish porcupine. "You seriously snuck inta the mansion jus' ta watch me sleep again?! Ya do realize dat's a creepy factuh of 12 onna scale a' one ta ten, right?"

_Heh, this gon' be a hoot_, he smiled to himself as he contemplated a handful of ways to mess with her before his thoughts faded from the forefront of her mind. "What can I say, I like you best when you ain't telling me off or trying to knock me into next week!"

"Ah got half a mind ta shoot _you_ wit' dis thing!" Rogue spun her dazed prey around and squeezed his trigger finger again, shooting another goon square in the buttcheek. As the surprised fellow fell, she noted out of the corner of her eye that the giant tortoise was still struggling to free himself from the wreckage of the upside-down SUV. "Was it really dat hard ta pick up the damned phone and just_ call _if'n ya missed me so much?!"

Clearing his throat, the thief's voice rang out in a melodious tenor as he tapped his foot to a rhythm that only he could hear and sang loudly, "_**Sometimes these cuts are so much deeper than they seem, you'd rather cover up but I'd rather let them bleed. So let me be and I'll set you free! **__**I am in misery, there ain't nobody who can comfort me…**_"

Rogue froze, her victim's head firmly locked in a choke hold, and blinked rapidly at the memory that caught her unawares.

_X-23 was looking up from the computer screen, a rare expression of amusement on her young face as she pointed at the blonde model in the music video. Smugly, she said, "This reminds me of your ex-girlfriend."_

"_Rogue is a brunette, petit," he laughed._

_Laura looked at him like he was a half-wit. "I meant the violence."_

_Rogue could feel Gambit's consternation as he'd replied, "C'mon now, we don' act dat bad..."_

"_You hit each other with your words."_

"What the _hell_!?" Rogue's brow furrowed and she shook her head violently to dispel the image. The struggling henchman punched her in the ribs and slipped through the crook of her arm, leaving his cloth facemask behind in the process. Winded, she grabbed for him but a flash of fuschia light went off at the man's feet, sending him skyward and bombarding her with sand and stones.

"_**Girl, ya really got me bad, I'm gonna get you back**_," Gambit continued singing with a grin, looking down at his spare deck as he dispassionately shuffled the cards from hand to hand.

"This ain't a musical, _couyon_! (idiot)" She shouted grouchily even as she stifled a smile. He used to sing to her all the time, whether making breakfast or harassing her into a late night romp between the sheets.

The reminder of what used to be rekindled her ire into a burning resentment over all they'd lost. Unleashing a ferocity that would have made Wolverine applaud, she nailed an attacker with a vicious uppercut, breaking the man's jaw in at least two places. Clutching his face, he screamed in pain. She took advantage of his distraction by using him as a human springboard to jump onto his team mate's shoulders, perversely enjoying the feel of his collarbone cracking under the pressure of her foot. In the blink of an eye she had locked her thighs around the second thug's neck, utilizing her momentum and weight to swing downwards and away; the much larger man was flipped head over heels, the back of his head smashing into the sun baked ground.

"Damnnn, fille!" Gambit exclaimed, reaching down to pull his collapsed bo-staff out of his right boot before she could hog all the fun...but his hand came up empty. He yanked off his steel-toed footwear and flipped it upside down while giving it a hearty shake. "What the..?!"

Looking up, he spotted the flash of silver as one of the muggers clutched his stomach and nearly fell over. Rogue pirouetted on the tips of her toes; a beautiful dancer who swung like a golf pro as she brought the full force of the stolen staff up to the second soldier's jaw. She yelled 'FOOOOURR!', and the man's head snapped backwards from the impact.

"Missin' somethin' dere, sugah?" she taunted, nimbly sidestepping the soldier that she'd gut-punched as he yelled an insult and tried to charge at her from behind. Without even looking, she cracked him across the back of his neck with the staff and he dropped face first into the weeds. "Ya best hurry up or dere ain't gon' be any leftovers f'ya!"

"Oh _non_, mam'selle- I'd **hate **t' make another mess for you ta _clean up,_" Gambit sniped as he hopped in place and pulled on his boot. Walking towards her like a tiger stalking its dinner, he held his hand over his heart in mock insult.

Rogue twirled the bo-staff warningly as he drew near and straightened up to his full 6'2". Unfazed by the threat, the lean Cajun glowered down at her, an unspoken challenge to take back the hurtful words she'd said after their escape from the restaurant. Her eyelashes fluttered guiltily under his accusing glare, and she sighed before looking away. Mollified by her apparent remorse, he reached out to cup her chin with the palm of his hand while simultaneously kicking the nearest thug, who had been reaching for a gun. She turned back to him suddenly, flipping the bo-staff up with a flourish to let it rest horizontally across his broad shoulders as she slid her arms around his neck and used the cold metal rod to pull him tantalizingly close. Malcontent went right out the window once she'd pressed her body warmly into his, and for a moment he forgot why he'd been pissed at this addictive rebel who stole his breath away.

As much as she savored the intimate proximity of their mouths, Rogue was barely tolerating his psyche's insolent attitude regarding her hurtful comment earlier; she certainly wasn't going to roll over and beg forgiveness from the real thing. Her husky voice was hot against his lips as she sang mockingly, "_**If happy ever after did exist, Ah would still be holding you like this... All those fairy tales are full of shit- one more $#%ing love song, Ah'll be sick**_."

Gambit frowned and made a mental note to destroy every Maroon Five album on the planet.

Grinning evilly, she whacked him upside the head with his own weapon and shoved him backwards just as a deafening roar erupted from the driver side of the Suburban. The giant, enraged tortoise stood up from where it had been hunched over its fallen team mate and launched at Rogue with inhuman speed. As fast as her stolen reflexes were, they were still stolen, and in no way as fast as the original owner's. She went down hard when M'Zee clipped her in passing, his scaly hide ripping the skin and muscle from her left arm as he swung wildly at Gambit.

"HOLY SHIT, y' pissed off the teenage mutant ninja turtles?!" he shrieked, diving out of the hard-shelled tank's way and scrambling across the asphalt to lead it away from Rogue, who was groggily trying to stand up. His amusement died the instant that M'Zee overshot his mark and brutally knocked the Harley over in his attempt to stop and turn, causing Gambit to utter a hateful cry. +

"I am the unstoppable force and the lord of physical will!" The huge reptile bellowed, spittle flying from his curved beak as he turned his beady eyes on the dark haired man crouching defensively on the opposite side of the road. "We are to bring you to our master, one way or another! You **will** serve the Red Skull!"

"Really? Dat's the best y' got?" Gambit seethed, sparkling cards flaring to life in both of his hands as if by magic. "You villains are all the same; always wit' the boring speeches, goin' around breakin' up perfectly good dates- it's time t' go back to the sewers, Donatello!"

Rogue had regained her feet and turned her head from the blinding flashes as the cards burst against M'Zee's chest with enough force to knock the Juggernaut-wannabe onto his back. He flailed helplessly and roared in fury when the Cajun landed a powerful kick to his thick skull, yelling something about revenge for his poor bike.

"At what point was dis evah a date, Gumbo?" She shouted to him as she flicked away the blood that was trickling down into her remaining glove.

"Are y' kiddin' me, chere?! We had a good time, we said some nasty things to each other, and twice now people have tried ta kill us. This is _officially _a date!" He laughed riotously, jumping in place to avoid M'zee's swiping claws.

_... _

_This took way longer than I was expecting because I discovered a massive 'oops' in my story's timeline :x I'm not going to say what it is in the hopes that I can correct it in a later chapter without anyone catching on, but suffice to say, it was a pretty big fail and I've had to rethink the entirety of all the crap I had already written. *sigh* I'm really not happy with this chapter- it feels like I'm missing out on a lot of description in the fight scenes, so I may alter it after I re-read it about 50 more times and everyone picks it apart. Random side note for fellow Rogue fans: If you haven't read Marvel Knights yet, you should! The art isn't all that great, but the plot is wonderful compared to UA. _

_+1) I have no idea if his eyes actually reflect light like a cat's, but I would imagine his mutation gives him an edge over the normal spectrum of human vision. It would certainly help explain how he became a master thief with amazing reflexes. _

_+2) Most of my family is from Seaford and Queens, but it's been a loooong time since I got to wander around Jones Beach. Hopefully any Long Islanders reading this will forgive my discrepancies. Thank goodness for Google Earth!_

_+3) I __**REALLY**__ don't like Chevies. _

_+4) Uncanny Avengers #3. Took a nasty shot to her right shoulder from the Red Skull's pistol. And then Alex beat the snot out of her._

_+5) Seriously, how has no one made a TMNT reference in UA yet?!_

_Oh, and I have nothing against Maroon 5! I never really paid attention to their songs until I stumbled across the "Misery" video last week and instantly thought, "Omg, that is SO Rogue!" lol. _


	8. Chapter 8

Chuckling despite her disagreement with his observation, Rogue turned back towards the Suburban and picked up the bo-staff with her good hand. On the edge of her peripheral vision, there was movement by the rear bumper and she raised her eyes to investigate. Startled by the strange mutant looking his way, the last remaining soldier jumped up from the bush he'd been cowering behind and rabbited across the highway.

_Must be a newbie, _she thought. Looking back at her ex-boyfriend, who was raining down ineffective blows on the downed turtle-man, she shouted, "Gambit, we got a runner!"

She pulled off her soaked glove and pitched the staff across the road, javelin style. He caught it easily, biceps bulging against his shirt sleeves as he whirled around like a dervish to crack it against M'Zee's head with both hands.

"I got dis, go get him so we can get the hell outta here b'fore the cops catch on!"

Briefly leaning down to brush her fingers against Goat Faced Girl's furry forehead as a precaution, Rogue favored the snoring minion with a lopsided smile. The strange looking woman would probably be out cold for a week thanks to the sheer amount of tranquilizer running through her system. Snatching up a gun loaded with darts, the Avenger sprinted after the hysterical thug, who had already crossed the bicycle path and was frantically trying to mayday for help on his walkie talkie. When he realized that the woman with the white streak and glowing eyes was hot on his heels, he started screaming about 'devils' and wailed pitifully before diving headfirst into the scrub brush along the side of the road. The sounds of explosions echoing off of turtle shell were quickly muffled by the tall reeds as she charged in after him, using the gun to cover her left arm so that the sharp twigs wouldn't catch on her shredded sleeve.

"Why won' you pass out already, _vous tortue stupide_?! (you stupid turtle)" Gambit said crossly as he used his staff to shove the incapacitated reptile across the road, its shell grating against the rough surface.

"You cannot stop me with your piddly little fireworks," M'Zee sneered and grabbed the metal rod to roll himself over.

"You might be right," the X-Man admitted, wrenching his weapon away, "But you can't hit what you can't catch!"

Springing out of the tortoise's reach, Gambit spared a glance at the bursts of pink lightning in the distance, illuminating what appeared to be a large, run down house. The momentary lack of concentration was all the opening M'Zee needed to clobber him with one massive fist, sending the Cajun tumbling down the embankment and into the thorny shrubs.

"Me an' my big mouth," he said, wincing as he untangled himself from the barbed twigs just in time to avoid being flattened by several hundred pounds of determined terrapin.

The booming echo of a grenade caught his attention, and he ducked through the bushes to emerge on a rough path, the staff making a sharp 'shakt' sound as it collapsed at the press of a hidden button. He stowed it back in his boot and was off and running before his enormous opponent could catch him, thinking that his brother Henri would be rolling in the grave from laughter to see the great Remy LeBeau getting distracted by the same _femme_ after all these years.

Leaping across the marshy hillocks while M'Zee bulldozed his way through everything, he nearly faceplanted into a narrow tributary stream that crisscrossed the spongy lane. Quickly taking several steps back, he sprang over the murky water as gracefully as a gazelle and tucked his legs up in midair for extra thrust, landing aft of a soft-looking quagmire. Unfortunately for the heavy chelonian, the bog acted much like quicksand; he sunk in the mire right up to his thick waist.

"Never chase a swamp rat through the marsh- you'll lose every time!" Gambit cackled at his bellowing enemy, waving his middle finger over his shoulder as he jogged across the soggy moor.

In short order the dark hulk of an isolated water treatment building loomed overhead and the ground firmed up considerably; Gambit had come across the old blacktop road leading around the facility. Taking care not to tread on any of the broken glass from what used to be the front windows, he followed the blackened craters that pockmarked the driveway. They led to a set of large, freshwater holding tanks at the outskirts of the compound, where he spied a pair of shadowy figures by the wall of an outlying shack. Rogue had her mark pinned to the weathered wood, threatening him with a tranquilizer gun that crackled with roseate incandescence. Her jeans were scorched and torn and the hoodie was lying in a smoking pile- apparently the goon had managed to get the drop on her.

"Las' time, ya waste a' space! WHO DID YA JUST CALL?!" she demanded, the rage in her voice tinged with desperation. +

"Y-you'll find out s-soon enough!" the henchman stuttered in a sad attempt at bravado.

Disgusted, she released her grip on his fatigues and let him drop to the ground, then took a step back and opened fire, the dart stabbing through the reinforced material into his chest. Although the man passed out instantly, the neon colored fletching flared like the fuse on a roman candle and caused Rogue to do a double take as she bent down to pat at her smoldering pants. She made a panicked grab at the little projectile and pulled it out, only to have it explode in her hand as she tried to throw it away. Landing on her rump with a startled exhalation, she shook the burning embers from her fingers while the soldier slumbered blissfully, completely oblivious to the fact that his ribcage had almost become a wind chime.

"Toldja I was havin' trouble controllin' my power since Faiza used Excalibur on me," Gambit said affably as he strutted out from the darkness, inadvertently causing her to jump at the sound of his voice. "Seems t' be at its most unpredictable when my emotions are, uhm…really amped up." +

He held out a hand to help her stand, noting that although the lining of her eyes was still black, her irises had turned a vibrant jade color. His borrowed powers were already wearing off.

She smirked knowingly as she pulled herself up and said, "Heh. Ah see dat. How many tissues didja blow up before ya ruined dat poor, innocent couch? At least ya ain't had ta shave 'down there' for a while though."

Gambit's jaw dropped open and for once he was completely speechless. Then he angrily mouthed the F-bomb and lowered his head, looking anywhere but at her. Rogue's smirk graduated to a full blown Cheshire Cat grin; he was trying to act as though he wasn't incredibly embarrassed that she had absorbed the memory of him relieving himself of an abundance of sexual tension and accidentally blasting a hole in his sofa's cushion. Being unable to completely control his mutant ability was a contributing factor to his temporary forced celibacy, and for the lady-loving Cajun it was akin to being imprisoned by his own body. The situation was completely unacceptable, but thus far he had been too mortified to ask for help from any of their numerous science-minded friends. Since the excessive power surge had only manifested a handful of times in the weeks after his near death experience, he was banking of the hope that it would eventually fade back to normal. +

"Are you actually _blushing_, Gumbo?" Rogue asked humorously, the urgency of their situation temporarily forgotten as she silently thanked the ghost voice in the back of her mind for the insight. She reached out to grasp his rough chin between her thumb and forefinger and tried to pull his face back around. Stubble was already growing on his jawline, despite being shaved off six hours earlier.

"It's très mauvais (really evil) to pick on a man's pride and joy, Anna," he said harshly, slapping her hand away and coldly turning his back to her as he peered cautiously out into the marsh. Deciding that M'Zee was nowhere near, he headed towards the road, quickness in his step. "Let's go already."

"Oh mah Gawd, you _ARE _blushing!" she chortled as she chased after him, brazenly ducking in front of his torso for another look. She tilted her head as she examined the evidence, a whimsical smile on her lips. Even in the heat of passion, she'd never seen his chiseled cheeks flush so intensely. It was a rare occasion indeed when she actually managed to turn the tables on him, and she savored the fact that she'd gotten under _his_ skin for a change. Smugly, she added, "Ain't so funny ta be on the receiving end, is it?"

He stopped as if he'd hit an invisible wall, his concern about making a hasty departure abruptly put on the back burner by his proud nature. Rogue rarely ever hit below the belt like this, especially in such a provocative manner. Knowing that his own indecent personality was influencing her tongue didn't make it acceptable to pick on such a sore subject.

As he raised an eyebrow and tried to ignore the burning sensation across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, he poked his pointer finger into the crinkles of amusement on her forehead. Feigning indifference, he asked, "Is my psyche still hangin' out in there?"

"Bien sûr, mon chér," she said playfully as she practically _felt_ him swear never to volunteer his powers again, "You t'ink Ah come up wit' dis stuff by mahself?"

"Then ask him to remind you what dis means," Gambit said with a little growl as he grabbed her hips and pulled her body upwards so that the tips of her boots barely touched the ground. Putting his mouth against her ear, he breathed a low, guttural groan that ended in a sensual gasp; it was the same noise he made just before orgasm. Although he was tempted to lick her earlobe for good measure, he held off for fear that she would injure her arm worse if she tried to hit him.

When he let go, she stumbled backwards with a throaty gasp and nearly fell, her cheeks even more scarlet than his own. She clamped her knees together to stem the warm ache flooding her lower extremities, mortification written clearly across her face at whatever lascivious memory the sound had dredged up. Digging her thumbs into her temples, she squeezed as though she could pop her head like bubble wrap and uttered in a strangled voice, "Ahhh…! Unnff, ohh..oh, no...! ARGH, _git outta mah head already, you goddamned pain in mah ass_!"

"What's dat ol' sayin'? Play wit' fire..." Gambit smiled wryly, and then he bit the tip of his tongue to keep from saying anything more. He would have happily pursued the opportunity to tease her relentlessly if they weren't in such a rush to distance themselves from their villainous attackers, especially since it had been years since his innuendo had gotten this extreme of a reaction.

Getting back on track, he pushed her towards the scraggly tree that he'd marked as being a less dangerous route, but was unable to resist the temptation of sliding his long fingers under the back of the singed camisole to caress her bare skin, stopping only when his fingertip touched the strap of her bra. The carnal groan she tried to suppress from the physical contact reminded him to keep his own feelings under control, lest he accidentally incinerate her clothing. Rogue punched at his wrist, flicking a few red drops onto his forearm in the process.

"Jus'…just don't touch me 'til this wears off," she said, taking the point and putting more space between them as she made her way through the prickly undergrowth. Unhappily, she grumbled, "Ah would'a been so much better off if Ah'd ended up wit' the 'angry you' dat Ah was afraid Ah'd get, instead of 'pervert you'."

"Somebody's a little tense...Been awhile since you got any action either, neh?" He couldn't make himself behave. He just couldn't. "Yo' ass is wound up so tight I bet I couldn' drive a toothpick up it with a sledgehammer."

Rogue paused in mid-stride and turned very slowly in his direction; her withering glare would have cowed a more insecure man. "Redneck analogies? Really?"

"Can take the boy outta the bayou but y' can't take the bayou outta the boy," her antagonizer shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Ah swear Ah'm gonna hit ya so hard dat you'll starve ta death before ya quit slidin'. How 'bout you shut your trap and watch out for Cecil Turtle an' the rest of the looney toons." +

"Threaten all y' want, chere, but y' didn't answer my question," he said breezily as he brushed past, jumping onto a section of bleached driftwood and leering down at her while balancing cockily on one foot.

Without any warning, she kicked the old log, causing him to hang suspended in space for a moment as his arms windmilled wildly. His boot heel slid on the mossy slime and he fell into a stagnant tide pool with a loud splash. Spluttering indignantly, Gambit struggled to sit up in the boggy water, his clothes completely soaked through. Thankfully, his phone was in a waterproof case and his wallet was made from Kevlar; he had learned long ago to procure only the toughest materials to protect his essentials.

"What and _who _Ah do ain't any of ya business anymore, jerk," she bristled as she sloshed across a shallow embankment. She should have stopped there, but resentment reared its ugly head at his repeated attempt to push her buttons. "Or did ya forget that _you_ broke up with _me_?"

Glaring after her with a mix of contempt and frustration while he peeled his sopping wet hair from his face, the hurt that he'd let fester for so long rose as bile in the back of his throat. When he had first shown an interest in her, Xavier and Wolverine had drilled into his head that Rogue was a wild spirit who would not be pushed into anything she didn't want, and if his intentions were anything less than pure then he would have been forced to quit the team. Even his best friend Storm had been particularly adamant that if he wanted the untouchable spitfire to reciprocate his feelings, he had to be patient. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way he had let himself be steamrolled by Rogue's actions and ambitions, never questioning and never complaining for fear that he would scare off the best thing that had ever happened in a lifetime of shitty decisions and even shittier consequences. For a short while, when they lived happily in Valle Soleada as a genuine couple, he had believed that his continued sufferance had been worth it. But then she started drifting away again, and waffled when he'd admitted that he still loved her. That had been the final straw for him.

"Considerin' the fact dat you hopped into Erik's bed _before the day we broke up had even _**_ended_**, I'd say I was justified," he snapped heatedly at her departing back as he searched the muck for his missing boot. It had pulled free from his foot when he'd tried to stand up. "Look at my memories, Anna, see what dat did to me instead of acting like you don' care!"

Completely against her will but unable to fight his anguished command, she stopped dead in her tracks as his psyche forced a surge of vivid recollections to assault her mind. Her eyes smarted with tears and she grimaced at the vision of Gambit furiously punching a hole in the wall of his bedroom on the island haven of Utopia and then drinking himself into a dejected stupor the morning that he had found out that she and Magneto had slept together. Rogue had never known about his violent outburst until now, since he'd hidden his true reaction under a mask of carefully fabricated apathy. Pretending to be okay with the fact that she had gone after someone else within hours of professing his love, the Cajun had rationalized the awkward situation by making himself believe that it didn't matter _whom_ she was with...just as long as she was happy. Still, his profound feelings of betrayal, yearning and humiliation from looking like a cuckolded fool trolled her mind, accompanied by a bevy of fragmented images from months of observing her from a distance as she'd cozied up to the infamous terrorist. +

"Stop it, Remy," she pleaded in a soft tone, tiredly rubbing her hand across her face. Knowing she had hurt him so badly was making her feel woozy, and her legs no longer felt as sure as they had ten minutes earlier. "It ain't fair usin' ya thoughts against me like dat. If you could see mine, you'd know dat Ah was really upset at how ya misinterpreted what Ah said. It hurt me more than Ah can say when ya jumped the gun and wouldn't let me explain that mah reasoning. Ah said Legacy didn' know if she kissed you out of attraction or 'cause of the adrenaline rush because ta me _they're the same damned feeling_!"

She had gone another ten feet before she realized that not only was he not behind her, but there had been no hurtful retort. A sound like boiling water chilled her to the bone, and she clenched her fist before slowly turning around, hoping beyond hope that her intuition was wrong.

Suspended in an dripping, egg shaped cocoon made entirely of sea water, Gambit was barely visible in its murky depths. Terror surged through her; she realized that he was drowning by the eerily silent way that he thrashed about as he desperately attempted to break free from the crushing pressure. Rising from the nearly emtpy pool below him, her watery tentacles slapping wetly at the reeds, was a woman made completely of a blue liquid that shimmered surreally in the moonlight. M'Zee was standing by her side, glaring at the man who had humiliated him and flexing the muscles in his forearms as though he'd like nothing better than to tear Gambit limb from limb. Clad in a red, Grecian style toga, Dancing Water raised her chin haughtily to look down her aquiline nose at Rogue.

"Ahh, Magneto's whore. So good to see you again."

_... _

_This chapter brought to you by the Kongos and Volbeat, who I've been listening to on repeat for the last week. _

_Oh boy, more sexual tension and angst! It's been a royal pain trying to think up sound reasoning to justify that whole "Hey, I'll just go jump in Magneto's bed!" BS from Legacy #249 -.- I've been neglecting my boyfriend and the cats to the point that I think they may be forgetting who I am, haha. Thank you all for your compliments and continued support- any time I start feeling down about finishing this story, I re-read my reviews and it perks me up again!_

_+1) SOO hard not to write "Ghostbusters!" after that remark…_

_+2) Gambit #17 (Volume 4)_

_+3) Gambit #24ish (Volume 3). I edited this to clarify the original script, since no one seemed to get what I was hinting at, lol. Gambit nearly lost control of his power during the New Son arc, and although he utilized a static charge to let him be intimate with Rogue, eventually his charging ability started to hurt her when they touched. I'm really surprised that Marvel doesn't show more power control mishaps- to me it's rather unbelievable that even the most well trained mutants never seem to have any 'accidents'. _

_+3) X-Men Legacy #249. So much hogwash that I still can't stand to re-read it._

_+4) Google Image search, keywords "Cecil Turtle" for you young whippersnappers ;)_

_Edit #1,546,778: Sorry! Half of my 'views' are probably from me re-reading the script and adjusting it...AGAIN. Seriously, if you check back in two days, it'll probably be a completely different story, LOL. _


	9. Chapter 9

_~Just a little note- you may want to go back and re-read chapter 8 before you continue, since I did some rearranging and played with a few of the paragraphs to convey what I was trying to write in a clearer fashion. Sorry this one is so short compared to the others, but I figured some was better than none. I really need to stop posting these things at 3am, lol. ~_

Over the years and multitudes of enemies that she'd fought, there was one consistent trigger that would instantly and irrevocably earn any would-be attacker the entirety of Rogue's wrath: Attempting to harm Remy LeBeau. Regardless of the current strife between them, the connection that had started so long ago as a passing flirtation had been forged into an unbreakable bond by many intense and life-altering experiences. Despite their best efforts to ignore it (and one another), the attachment endured and remained far stronger than either would willingly acknowledge at this point in their friendship- until those precious few moments when faced with the possibility of death. It was always unfortunate when the more shrewd of their adversaries figured out the unwavering nature of that link and took advantage of it, using one as an Achilles heel to fire up the other's impulsive, often savage over-reaction.

Dancing Water knew none of this, and was genuinely surprised to find herself faced with a considerably more hostile attitude from the canny and reserved mutant that she had clashed with in New York City. The Red Skull had trained his lackeys well, but even his most talented soldier still had an urge to back away from the sheer hatred emanating from the Mississippi marauder's intense glare. Just as Gambit had unthinkingly broken the arm of the wretch who had tried to shoot her in the bar, Rogue moved without a second thought, immediately raising her weapon as she strode towards the watery assassin.

In a tone heavily laden with animosity, she snarled, "Let him go- your fight is wit' me!"

"My master sent me here for you, true, but I think he might like this one as well," the villain replied, gesturing grandly towards the watery prison she'd created. Despite her posturing, however, the tiniest bit of uneasiness had crept into her voice. She was no doubt remembering the thorough trouncing that the Avengers had doled out from their last confrontation.

"Then he's gon' be mighty disappointed. We don' take kindly ta genocidal dictators."

Rogue tried to command a kinetic charge into the weapon but instead of charging up the darts, the barrel merely fizzled in a pitiful display of sparks. Suddenly, the night sky seemed to darken and her step faltered as the disorienting feeling of becoming instantly drunk overwhelmed her. Panicked, she thought, _Oh no, not now! NOT NOW! _

"Ha! That is hilarious coming from you, the one who sought affection from Magneto! One of the most violent _murderers_ that history has ever seen! If The Red Skull did not desire your 'skills', I would kill you myself just for your sheer stupidity. But you and your friend here might be valuable assets- I saw how much damage you wreaked upon my comrades."

Dancing Water spared a withering glance at her turtle-shelled companion, who, although he was still staring at the water pod, looked shamefaced at the accusation. She had seen her enemy's hesitation and it renewed her confidence in winning a battle without the full S-team roster to back them up. With a self-satisfied smile, she turned her attention to her captive, who was spinning violently inside the mini whirlpool that she'd created inside the bubble. "Then again, I am sure he would not mind indulging his favorite soldier if I decided to do away with this pathetic…thing."

Adrenaline supercharged Rogue's arteries and she charged the last few feet with an enraged roar, only to be catapulted into the air by a sudden geyser of mud and sand. The stunned Avenger instinctively corkscrewed her body around, landing clumsily on her feet and somehow managing to stay upright despite the soft, marshy ground. Gambit had ceased moving and the only thing visible through the swirling mire was a crumpled boot, spinning around aimlessly at the bottom of the quivering bubble.

_C'mon, Remy- Ah know ya can hold your breath longer than this…! _Rogue worried as she yanked down the cartridge in the gun, hopping precariously between gushers that seemed to spring up every time one of her feet hit the ground. Covertly snapping the tips from the next three darts, she then jammed the ammo back into place and mentally crossed her fingers before unleashing the entire clip at her foe. Her aim was true; every single one found its mark.

With a disbelieving laugh, the water-woman looked down at her midsection and scoffed at the diminutive projectiles floating around where her bellybutton should have been. "I had thought that you were smarter than _that_, you ignorant trailer trash."

At the sight of the milky serum seeping out from the broken darts and mixing with her bodily fluid, however, her expression turned into one of shock.

"If Ah'm trailer trash, what's that make you? Sewage?" Rogue sneered, throwing the gun at her as well.

Dancing Water ducked and immediately dropped the hand that had been controlling the hovering death orb, clawing at her midsection as if it were possible to somehow spill her own guts. The giant ball of water ruptured, and amidst the deluge Gambit's limp frame flopped back into the tidal pool like a fish from a shattered aquarium. Face down in the muddy water, he bobbed once before slipping beneath the surface. M'Zee gleefully jumped in beside him and held the Cajun underwater with both of his gnarled paws, ensuring that his enemy would not wake again.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Rogue would remember later that she screamed, but at that moment the few coherent thoughts that her addled brain could grasp were instantly overruled by blind rage. She lunged for Dancing Water's throat, intent on stealing her powers to drive off the giant reptile. The Red Skull's assassin slithered back onto the grass out of fearful self-preservation and in her panic she flung up a thick wall of water, effectively hitting her attacker in the face and knocking her flat on her ass. Rogue practically bounced back up, completely disregarding her bloody nose…only to be nailed full in the chest with a burst of firehose-like pressure that hurled her into the reeds by the pool.

Her ears ringing from the impact with the ground, she rolled onto her back and struggled to reorient her senses. Just as she stopped seeing double, M'Zee's flabbergasted cry echoed across the marsh. His armored gauntlets were glowing brightly and the water in the basin was bubbling as though it were a hot tub backlit by brilliant pink lighting. A split second later, twin explosions rocked the giant tortoise backwards, spraying everything in a ten foot radius with chunks of seaweed and mud as Gambit erupted from the roiling pool with a tremendous gasp. He dragged himself over to the bank, looking for all intents and purposes like he could have been Swamp Thing's half-dead twin.

"Oh thank goodness," Rogue exclaimed gratefully, the fear instantly lifting from her chest as she tried, unsuccessfully, to pull his steaming body up onto the grass. Her cowboy boots kept slipping in the silt and she could barely keep herself upright, let alone lift up almost two hundred pounds of soggy X-Man.

He pushed himself the last few feet and collapsed onto his knees and elbows next to her, lungs wracked by dry heaves while his ex-girlfriend slapped his back repeatedly. After he'd coughed up a stream of saltwater and endured a few painful whacks, he caught her hand in mid swing and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Y' about to break my damn ribs, chere," he rasped out.

"Just trying ta smack some sense into ya," she said, fortitude emboldening her tone as she eyed the blurry body lying in the reeds on the other side of the crater that was once a tide pool. The woman's normally translucent skin had turned opaque, and the giant turtle was slowly crawling towards her, his massive arms smoking where bloody chunks of flesh had been burned off.

"Never happen," Gambit joked flatly, sparing a glance at Rogue and noting the unsteady way she half rose into a defensive crouch. Through the rips in her jeans, he could make out her supple leg muscles flexing alternately from side to side with the effort of keeping upright. "T'anks for the warning about the homicidal squid woman, by the way."

"Mah bad," she grimaced. "Ah was goin' to say something before ya insisted on aggravating me to the point of distraction. She can teleport through any bit o' water, and can control it, too. Said she was Avalanche's daughter the first time we tussled… Ah didn't even know he had a kid. Cap thinks the Skull brainwashed her pops into causing all that damage in the city last month." +

M'Zee reached his team mate and was cautiously pulling her up into a sitting position. Although Rogue had turned her head towards Gambit while she was speaking, her gaze didn't catch up until a few seconds later; she was reluctant to take her eyes off the enemy for even a moment. To her surprise, he was staring intently at her and frowning.

"I _did_ actually hear what you said before dat lunatic tried to drown me."

With a pronounced 'woof' and some serious effort, Rogue stood up in an attempt to avoid the direction in which he was trying to turn the conversation- and promptly plopped back down when her legs gave out. Her head lolled back onto her shoulder and she studied him with sorrowful, bloodshot eyes, but remained silent on the matter.

"Can't tell the difference between an adrenaline rush an' love, huh?" he coughed, and spat out more saltwater in a derisive fashion. "Was it like dat with Magneto?"

Softly, she said, "Can't this wait until we ain't got people tryin' ta kill us? Ah don't wanna argue when Ah'm this tanked…already said enough bad things t'night."

"_Je suis en désaccord_, (I disagree)" His tone was polite, yet firm, as he sat Indian-style and glared bleakly at their attackers, who were slowly getting to their feet. "You got me at an unfair advantage- y' been in my head but I don' know what's going on in yours. I'm really starting to wonder if I ever did. A drunk mind is an honest mind, and I don' know when… or if…we're ever goin' to get the chance to set things straight. I want t' hear the truth. I think I deserve dat much."

It wasn't the earnestness in his tone or his imploring expression that bothered her; no, it was the sad acceptance in his eyes that said he already expecting an answer that he didn't want to hear. That he seemed so ready to give up hurt more than any physical blow. She started rolling clumps of muck into small mudpies before sighing deeply.

"What Erik and Ah had was...soothing,and more secure, like Ah knew he'd always have mah back and not do somethin' dumb like run off to Sinister or Apocalypse. It was nice not ta worry about gettin' homemade porn on DVD in the mail from any dalliances, too." +

The Cajun visibly flinched, whether from being busted about his dirty secret or being called a traitor, she didn't know. _Probably both. You really think Ah'm that naïve, huh?_

"Ah'm sorry Ah was so callow ta you on Utopia. You're right: It don't excuse the cruel way Ah treated your feelings. You deserve better than that. Ah think all the bad blood between us was influencing mah common sense and Ah just wanted to try something different, more...mature. But my views were too different from Erik's, and ta be honest, Ah never felt any of the-" at a loss for adjectives, she stopped making the little projectiles to fling her hands out and gesture helplessly, "-Passion? Excitement? _Insanity_? Whatever the _**hell **_it is that Ah have with you. Never felt like Ah wanted to _strangle_ him every other second either."

Gambit looked downwards, but the small smile tugging at his lips spoke of genuine relief. It caught her off-guard; she had been expecting enmity. As he stood, he plucked a handful of mudballs from the pile and juggled them while his mutant ability cajoled their kinetic energy into glittering sparks. Across from them, Dancing Water was being held up by M'Zee, and looked like she attempting to summon high tide while simultaneously trying not to pass out.

"…You sure y' don' wanna borrow my power again?" He asked casually, eyeing the waves that were creeping up to their feet.

Rogue stared up at him, incredulous, before clumsily pulling herself up to wobble unsurely at his side. "_That's it_? No yelling, no nuthin'? Ya just gonna accept mah apology like _that_, after all them bad feelings you've had rollin' around for a half a year?!"

"_Non_, you ain't getting off dat easy- I'll paddle y'ass one of these days," he smirked, thoroughly enjoying her completely bewildered expression. "But f' now I know all I need ta know."

When her eyebrow rose questioningly, he nudged her good elbow with his own and winked knowingly before lobbing the kinetically charged muckballs at the Red Skull's goons.

"Present tense gave y' away, chere."

Rogue made a disgusted noise and mentally slapped herself.

_..._

_The good news is that we're officially half way through the fight scene from hell, the bad news is that I've had to rewrite pretty much the entire rest of the story. The really bad news is that it's becoming quite the struggle to finish this danged thing since my mind keeps distracting me with fun Romy ideas and all I wanna do is pick up the iPad and start drawing instead of writing! I promise I'll finish this though, come hell or high water. Or Dancing Water, as it were. Nyuk nyuk nyuk. _

_+1) Uncanny Avengers #1. Good job, Avalanche- you asshat. Wonder who DW's mom is/was?_

+2) _Traitor:_ _Uxm #350 for Sinny, X-Men Vol.2 #184 for Poccy. Cheater: The 'dalliance' with Lili Penrose took place Gambit vol.3 #5, but he tried to hide the surveillance DVD from Rogue in #10. _


End file.
